


all the stars (are closer)

by bevioletskies



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Family Dynamics, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: Scott is a washed-up comedy actor and an ex-convict, unable to find enough work to pay child support. Hope is a famous action star and the daughter of one of Hollywood’s most beloved couples, still struggling with the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death. When Hope’s estranged father casts them in his directorial debut, a romantic drama with a script that’s more truth than fiction, they find themselves tangled in a mysterious conspiracy that just might explain whatreallyhappened to Janet Van Dyne all those years ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from the song [All The Stars](https://open.spotify.com/track/3GCdLUSnKSMJhs4Tj6CV3s?si=OhU6d2-BRpikFU2zrUD3mQ) by Kendrick Lamar (with SZA).

To the surprise of practically no one who’d known him in his childhood and his awkward adolescence, Scott went into comedic acting soon after graduating university (with a master’s in engineering, no less), having spent many of his late nights doing stand-up instead of studying for exams. To the surprise of nearly _everyone_ , however, he then went on to become moderately famous.

“He was _always_ better at making me laugh than making me cry. Well, until the end,” his ex-wife Maggie had said with a bittersweet smile on a morning talk show once. She was an actress as well, often erroneously underappreciated in supporting roles, and was now engaged to a man who was known for guest-starring on every cop procedural that was still airing long beyond its expiry date.

Maggie hadn’t been talking about their divorce, exactly, but rather, the cause of it - Scott had spent three years in jail for trying to expose a crime ring inside the film industry that no one wanted to admit existed, three years of their daughter’s life he could never get back. His career had also come to a complete standstill ever since, and though he’d made half-hearted attempts at a comeback, he never seemed to be able to make it to where he had been.

“You gotta do something different here, Lang,” his agent had said to him after the third movie premiere in a row in which he’d spent most of it mulling over how much of his paycheck had gone to child support. “Look, there’s a director who’s been chasing me down, wants you to read for a part. It’s not your usual, though - romantic drama, Oscar bait, whatever you wanna call it. He’s already got his lead actress. You know Hope Van Dyne?”

Scott promptly jolted out of his apathy-induced haze. “ _What?_ ”

Hope was the result of a rare Hollywood happy ending, the daughter of two silver screen icons who had been staples of drama films in their prime and had gotten married after working together and discovering a mutual secret love of science. They later started a scientific research foundation together as an anniversary gift for the world, focusing on funding biological innovation and children’s education programs. It was declared the Hope for Science Foundation during the opening ceremony, where the two of them posed for pictures and talked to reporters while cradling their newborn daughter in their arms.

It hadn’t all been picture-perfect though, as her mother had died in a plane crash when she was seven. Her father’s last role had him playing a surly but well-intentioned detective, with one particular scene that critics loved where a six-year-old Hope had appeared as his character’s daughter. No one had heard from him ever since. When Hope started appearing in action movies in her twenties with a dozen martial arts credentials and her mother’s last name instead of her father’s, rumors followed her everywhere she went. In short, she was the last person whose name Scott had expected to hear.

“Be careful when you meet her, alright? Everyone says she’s...intense.” His agent made a face. Scott was too stunned to make any sort of face in return.

For one reason or another, Scott found himself standing outside the director’s house a week later, debating whether to ring the doorbell, knock on the door, or turn right around and never come back. The decision was made for him when someone walked up beside him, rapped their knuckles sharply on the door, then stepped back and promptly directed their attention to their phone. He turned to stare incredulously at Hope herself, dressed in a smart pantsuit far nicer than his button-up shirt and jeans, making no attempt to acknowledge his presence.

“Hello,” he said rather stupidly. She didn’t respond. “I’m, uh, I’m Scott. It’s nice to...nice to meet you.” More silence. “Y’know, my agent didn’t even tell me anything about the director or the movie, so I don’t...really know what I’m doing here?”

“Is that a question?” she said shortly. Her voice was softer than he remembered from the handful of movies he’d seen her in, but there was a bite in her tone that made him wince.

“No, I _really_ don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admitted, chuckling awkwardly. She seemed unamused. “But you gotta know _something_ , right? And that _was_ a question,” he added at her pointed eyebrow raise.

She suddenly shoved her phone in her pocket and pushed past him to open the door, which had apparently been unlocked the whole time, barely waiting for him to follow. “Hank is waiting for us in the sitting room.”

“Wait,” Scott called after her, hastily shutting the door behind him once he’d stepped inside. “Who?”

The first thing he noticed was how eccentric the house was, looking every bit as old-fashioned as its exterior had been, with Victorian-style furniture, elaborate wallpaper and wainscotting, and dimly-lit lamps in every corner that made it feel more like an atmospheric showroom than an actual home. It took him another few seconds to notice that Hope clearly knew her way around, striding down the hall and through a series of doorways until they finally came to a stop in a room occupied by another man.

Scott did a double-take at the sight of the man - he was notably older than any director Scott had ever worked with, well-dressed in a wool sweater vest, slacks, and a tie, peering at them through his translucent-rimmed glasses with a piercing gaze. What was most notable, however, was the fact that he was definitely Hope’s estranged father.

“Hank,” Hope said neatly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Hope. Would it kill you to call me ‘Dad’?” Hank let out a world-weary sigh, sinking into the plush armchair behind him and gesturing for them both to sit on the fainting couch opposite. Hope immediately sat down; Scott was still looking at him dumbfoundedly. “Mr. Lang, I see you’ve already met my daughter.”

“Yeah, uh, she’s great,” Scott said, turning to look at her. She was already back on her phone. He turned back and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Pym, huge fan of your work - ”

“It’s ‘Doctor’ now, Scott. Spent my early retirement putting my mind to good use.” Instead of accepting Scott’s proffered hand, he gestured toward the bookcases behind him, practically bursting at the seams with volumes on things like quantum physics, time displacement, and other topics far beyond Scott’s master’s degree. “Sit down.”

Scott finally took a seat, sheepishly tucking his rejected hand away. “Sorry - _Dr._ Pym, I didn’t realize you were directing now.”

Hope scoffed. “You _really_ didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Tell me - ” Scott glanced between them, but neither seemed interested in making eye contact with each other. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“To make a long story short, I need more than just a good performance out of you.” Hank leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at Scott so intently he could feel his ears burning. “What can you tell us about the Ghost conspiracy?”

Scott groaned, leaning back to rub his eyes; he could feel a headache coming on already. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. No disrespect to you, Dr. Pym, but I left all that behind me the second I got out of jail. Besides, they had me sign a bunch of agreements not to talk about it, it was all very legal. Even if I wanted to talk about my theories, I can’t.”

“But it’s not just a theory, is it? It’s real, all of it,” Hank insisted. “People were disappearing and - ”

“Almost thirty years later and you _still_ can’t let this go.” Hope finally put her phone away so she could narrow her eyes at her father. “We have more important things to be focusing on, Hank. Dragging in a has-been who _might_ know something about this stupid cult theory just to feed your obsession over Mom’s death is a new low, even by your standards.”

“Don’t you talk about your mother like that,” Hank growled, suddenly rounding on her. “Show some respect.”

“Fine. Then we can go back to not talking at all,” she replied. She got to her feet and promptly turned to walk right out of the house, her heels clicking sharply against the glossy wood floors. Hank sighed, sinking further into his chair, making no move to go after her.

Scott, who was trapped in an unpleasant combination of feeling utterly confused, awkward, and shocked all at once, slowly stood as well. “There’s no movie, is there?”

“There is,” Hank said resignedly. “And I need both of you, more than you could ever know.”

* * *

Scott barely slept at all that night, staring up at the ceiling with everything he knew and everything he _thought_ he knew rolling around in his brain. He had only stayed at Hank’s house for another few minutes, hoping to get a clearer picture of what exactly he was expecting from him, but Hank had only said that he would get in touch when they were ready. Scott wasn’t sure if “they” really included Hope, given that her car was long gone by the time he walked out of the house. She seemed about as interested in entertaining Hank’s schemes as she was in...well, just about anything else.

Still, Scott found himself on a sunny San Francisco backlot three weeks later, sitting in a hair and makeup trailer with the air conditioning blasting comfortably through his unwashed hair. He had signed a contract after it had been extensively combed through by his lawyer, and a script had finally been mailed to him last night, though he knew its importance was secondary to Hank’s true intentions.

If Hank and Hope were even just a little bit less intimidating, Scott would have turned down both the movie and the mystery, but he had to admit - if nothing else, he was intrigued. Neither of them seemed to be able to talk about Janet beyond using her as a weapon against one another, and he couldn’t blame them. He remembered how he could barely bring himself to talk about Cassie during the first few months of his incarceration, how he couldn’t bear the thought of how much he’d disappointed her. He had wondered if she would want to see him after he got out, if she would want to remember him at all.

The sharp _bang_ of the trailer door being flung open startled Scott right out of his thoughts (and his chair). He glanced in the mirror to watch Hope walk in and sit down in the seat beside him. The assistants immediately began to panic, scrambling to dig through their kits and find what they needed for her. Hope remained as disinterested as ever, silently sipping on her coffee and scrolling through her text messages.

“Morning,” Scott chirped. She side-eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t done a table read or pre-production or...y’know, anything?”

“Hank invests his time and money into what he wants, not what’s actually needed,” she replied, her tone dry. “If you were expecting this shoot to be like anything you’ve ever done before, you clearly don't understand what’s really going on here.”

“I don’t, because neither of you are telling me anything,” he pointed out. “And I’m not an expert on this stuff. There are probably a dozen people out there more qualified to help him than me, why can’t he just ask around?”

Hope glanced briefly at the makeup assistants still rooting around the bottoms of their bags for products, then leaned in close, her mouth nearly brushing against Scott’s ear. He shivered. “Hank hasn’t been focusing on the _real_ problem that I went to him for. There’s a man determined to blacklist him permanently from every connection and every social circle he’s ever had, ruin his reputation, and deplete my family of the fortune that my parents built. He only knows this because I told him, which is why he has to be discreet. He also thinks solving the conspiracy will somehow stop this from happening. _I_ think he’s really lost it this time.”

“So who is this guy?” Scott asked quietly. “Why does he have it out for Hank?”

“Darren Cross was a would-be protégé of his. Child actor he met during the filming of his very last movie...the one that I was in, too.” Hope leaned back in her chair to look at her own reflection in the mirror, eyes glazing over as she became lost in thought. “When...when Mom died, Hank left everything behind, including his promise to Darren that he’d take him under his wing. He couldn’t handle being abandoned.”

“What happened to him after that?” Scott pressed.

She let out a quiet, harsh laugh. “Among other things, he became the CEO of my parents’ foundation. It was poetic to the public, but what it _really_ was? It turned out that a mutual spite for Hank was a negotiation point for starting a business relationship between us, and so I made it happen. I was the one who put Darren in that position.” Her head bowed. “I made us vulnerable.”

Scott blinked. “I’m so confused.”

Hope sighed, rolling her eyes so hard he suspected she would have pulled something had she not likely done it thousands of times before. “Try to keep up, I’m not here to babysit you. I’m here to help Hank.”

“Really? Because it kinda sounds like it’s the _last_ thing you wanna do.”

“He abandoned me right after Mom died. Since then, he’s only come back into my life a few times, and usually not by choice.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want to believe the things he believes, but...part of me wants to entertain the idea that somewhere, somehow...she’s still alive.”

* * *

The end of the fourteen-hour shoot left Hope half-collapsed in the driver’s seat of her car, completely and utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. She knew Scott was familiar with her work, but she knew nothing of his - comedy had never been a draw to her, not when her life had been so deprived of it. Her expectations for him had been low, and she’d made that obvious from the beginning, but what _actually_ happened in front of the cameras left her silently impressed. Still, it didn’t make his presence any easier to accept.

She had been eighteen when she’d agreed to meet with Hank in person for the first time since her mother’s death, with every other encounter being expertly maneuvered by lawyers or assistants or any other number of sneak tactics he’d used to attempt reconciliation, to no avail. He’d told her about the Ghost conspiracy, showed her all the news clippings and redacted documents and photographs he’d collected, telling her it was likely Janet had gotten too close to the truth and had been taken from them as a result. Hope then spent the rest of her life holding steadfast to the plane crash that everyone believed to be true, mostly out of spite. However, six months ago, _she_ ended up calling _him_ with a new proposal, because now, they were racing against the clock.

“Darren wants to cut off all program funding and shut down the Foundation, start it from scratch with _his_ name on the side of the building,” she had said to him over the phone. “He wants to discredit you, _blame_ you for Mom’s death, and...he’s been siphoning money elsewhere. Offshore bank accounts, shell companies, things I can’t trace myself, but I know it’s happening. We have to stop him before this turns into something bigger than just us.”

Hank had paused; even after all their years apart, she could still picture him narrowing his eyes in contemplation. “What is he up to?”

“I wish I knew.” Hope had pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers in agitation. “I’ve caught glimpses of his phone and his work desktop - emails, invoices, redacted documents - but I don’t know where to begin. I...I need your help, Hank.”

Another pause. Then, “I think I found a guy.”

She had blinked. “...who?”

A sharp _knock-knock-knock_ on the passenger door window promptly pulled Hope out of her reverie. She flinched further when she realized who it was. “Oh, god.”

Scott shot her a bright smile, though even he was starting to look exhausted as well. “Hank wants to do a nightcap at his house, said he wanted to go over the details.”

“Of course he does,” she said bitingly. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.”

“I, uh, I don’t suppose I could get a ride with you, could I?” he asked, his grin turning into something more sheepish. “I’m still not clear to get a driver’s license yet, I’ve been taking ride services ever since - ”

“ - ever since you got out of jail,” Hope interrupted. Her eyes were narrowing more and more by the second. “Just get in before I change my mind.”

The drive to Hank’s was uncomfortably silent for the first few minutes, though she could tell he was itching to talk, his fingers drumming an irregular pattern against the windowsill. “So that was, uh...that was something.”

“What was?” she said shortly.

“O-kay, never mind,” he mumbled to himself. For the first time since she’d met him, he almost seemed embarrassed.

She cleared her throat, feeling a mild sense of pity for him that she was sure would pass. “It was definitely...different. But we both know the movie isn’t what matters here.”

“Right, but we still have to do the whole - ” he waved his hand aimlessly “ - the shoot, post-prod, press, y’know, the usual. Unless Hank decides to shelve the project if we get this done first.”

Hope suddenly slammed on the brakes without warning, causing Scott to jolt forward. All the air was knocked out of his lungs from the tug of his seatbelt, causing him to wheeze; she ignored him. “Why are you even getting involved? You could’ve easily walked away from all of this.”

“Well…” He paused for a moment, partially to think about what he felt and what she wanted to hear, but mostly to cough and catch his breath. “...you have to understand, Hope, I don’t get a lot of options or opportunities these days. It’s hard to find work of _any_ kind as an ex-con, let alone in an industry as messed up as this one. So, after listening to Hank and listening to you, I mean, how could I _not_ help, _especially_ if I’m the only one who can? That’s how I felt the first time I got involved, and that’s how I feel now. If I can figure out this weird conspiracy that’s been haunting me for the last six years, I can prove to my ex and my daughter that I didn’t do what I did for nothing.”

She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat, so low that Scott nearly missed it. It almost sounded sympathetic. “I...almost forgot about your daughter. I know all about Maggie, but...I guess you both kept her out of the public eye. That’s not what my parents did with me.” She lowered her gaze to the steering wheel, unable to look at him. “What’s her name?”

“Cassie.”

“It’s a pretty name.” Hope, to Scott’s surprise, cracked a small smile. “If you want what’s best for Cassie, you might want to start by protecting yourself first. You may be sure about what happened to you in the past, but you have no idea what’s about to happen in the future. None of us do.”

He shrugged. “Sounds like an adventure.”

Hope snorted, shaking her head, though it seemed more playful than it had before. She let go of the brake to step on the gas again, still smiling as she pulled the car back onto the road.

* * *

After the excessively long discussion at Hank’s house, where, to Scott’s disappointment, Hope fell back onto her stone-faced stoicism and strong contempt for her father, Scott took a car home, not wanting to bother her further. His mind was still reeling from everything they’d talked about, all the (legal) details he’d shared, all the information Hank had, all the interruptions Hope made to remind them of the more immediate issue at hand. Ten minutes into the ride, Scott leaned forward to gently tap on the plexiglass and request that the driver make a detour.

He found himself standing on the doorstep of a house far nicer than his, in a gated community he had once known. It was only a few blocks over from where he and Maggie used to live when they were together, a step-up from the crappy apartment they had when they were first starting out, young and fresh-faced and naïve. He took a deep breath, then rang the doorbell.

A moment passed before someone answered, the door swinging open sharply. To Scott’s dismay, it was Paxton, Maggie’s fiancé, staring him down in complete disbelief. Scott grimaced. “Hey, man. Is my daughter home?”

Paxton scoffed. “You’re not supposed to be here, Lang.”

“I know, I know. I just...it’s been a long day, and I thought I would stop by and say hello. Can I at least do that?” Scott pleaded.

The decision seemed to be made for Paxton, however, as there was a sudden pattering of a little girl’s footsteps thundering down the hallway, and she practically barreled right into Scott’s side with a delighted squeal. “Daddy!” Cassie shrieked.

Scott let out a sigh of relief, crouching down and melting into her embrace, instantly soothed by the feeling of her face burrowed in his neck. He then pulled back a little so they were eye-to-eye. “Hey, peanut,” he said softly. “Been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“For good reason,” Paxton coughed, though he stepped aside so Scott could cross the threshold and get into the house. “I’ll tell Maggie you’re here.”

“Wait, no, don’t - ” Paxton disappeared up the stairs before Scott could stop him. Scott groaned, looking back to Cassie, who merely shrugged. “So what’ve you been up to? All kinds of trouble, I bet.”

“No way,” she protested. “I’ve been super good. Mommy said so.”

“That’s good,” Scott murmured, cupping her face in both hands so he could push her hair out of her face. She was a little taller than she’d been the last time he’d seen her, though her eyes were just as big and round and expressive as ever. He then realized she was wearing the pyjamas he’d bought and sent her last Christmas, which he had wrongly assumed Maggie had just thrown out before Cassie ever realized they existed. “Hey, uh, I’ve been working on a new movie. I’m not really sure if you’ll be old enough to watch it when it comes out, but it’s different than the stuff I usually do. And I’ve got some...interesting people I’m working with.”

“Int’resting how?” she asked.

“It’s a father-daughter team. Just like you and me,” he replied, poking her playfully in the stomach, causing her to giggle. “What do you think, peanut? You wanna act with me someday, too?”

“Scott, let our daughter have a normal life, _please_.” He glanced up to see Maggie standing at the top of the stairs, her arms folded across her chest defensively. Paxton was hovering at her back, glancing between them like he was watching a tennis match.

“How can I? Have you seen the house you guys live in?” Scott remarked. “What’s the mortgage like?”

“I’m not here to argue with you, Scott. I _am_ here to remind you that you can’t just come by whenever you feel like it,” she said, furrowing her brow at him. “And it’s late. Cassie has to be in bed in fifteen minutes, she has gymnastics tomorrow.”

“Wait - I brought you something.” Scott pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to her. She made her way down the stairs to take it, eyeing it suspiciously as if she expected it to explode, and carefully pried it open. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

“Scott, this is - ”

“Six months’ worth, yeah,” he nodded. “I know it’s nothing compared to what you guys make, but I just wanna do my part. I wanna do what’s right.”

“But where did this come from?” Maggie sputtered.

“I got an advance payment for the project I’m working on,” he explained. “Just started today, actually.”

“Daddy’s doing a movie. He says it’s diff’rent from his other stuff,” Cassie informed her, smiling toothily.

“Scott, if you’re getting involved in something immoral again - ”

“Illegal, even,” Paxton interjected. Scott couldn’t help but think he tended to forget that he only played a cop on TV.

“ - then I want no part in it, and I don’t want a single cent,” Maggie finished, turning to shoot Paxton a dirty look.

“I promise, it’s honest money. I’m going straight. I’ve _been_ going straight for the past year,” Scott insisted. “I just meant ‘different’ as in ‘different genre’, okay, it’s nothing to be worried about! I’m turning it around, Maggie. I swear.”

“Well…” She sniffed, carefully tucking the cheque back into the envelope. “I’m not cashing it until I know you’re in the clear. So go home, Scott. I’ll call you later this week, we can talk more about this movie of yours then.”

“I’m shooting all week, so I’ll text you when I’m free instead,” he suggested.

“Fine,” she said, pursing her lips. Scott knelt to give Cassie a hug goodbye, sneaking in a quick kiss on the forehead despite knowing he was already pushing his luck. “Can you at least tell me the name of one of your co-stars or something? Just to, I don’t know, make it sound more legitimate?”

Scott paused, straightening up. “Hope Van Dyne.”

Maggie scoffed incredulously; Paxton made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat. “Hope Van Dyne, are you serious? Everything I’ve heard about her, all that stuff about her parents, I mean...she seems...intense.”

Scott glanced down at Cassie. She grinned, reaching to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, chuckling mostly to himself. “So I’ve been told.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter AU for Scott/Hope for ages, but could never quite think of a concept that would suit them specifically. Then this popped into my head after watching the trailer for _Once Upon A Time In Hollywood_ and remembering how much I enjoyed _The Nice Guys_ , and here we are! I started a post- _Endgame_ fic focusing on the Ant-fam a long time ago as well, but that'll probably come after this one is complete.
> 
> As you've probably noticed, this fic is going to mash up elements of both _Ant-Man_ movies in different ways. It'll also go back and forth on the film industry aspect and the conspiracy hunt aspect, with some chapters focusing on one more than the other. Next chapter will be posted next Friday and I'm hoping to post this weekly. You can read this fic on [tumblr](https://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/186084582999/all-the-stars-are-closer-15) if you'd like! Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hope’s routine on her rare days off had been the same for the last ten years of her life, precisely followed down to the minute. She was early to rise and early to bed, never lingering or delaying for more than five additional minutes. She would go for a morning run as the sun rose, then return to do an hour of weight training and kickboxing in her penthouse’s personal gym, finally concluding with breakfast. The rest of her morning was spent responding to emails and corresponding with her agent, followed by lunch. Her afternoon would be yoga, then reading and reviewing scripts and contracts and anything else that came through, then dinner. She would then read, meditate, and be in bed by 10 PM.

Which was all to say that she was understandably irate when Scott decided to call her at 9:55 PM on a Saturday night.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she snapped, the effects of her meditation practice instantly dissipating.

“Not even 10?” he guessed, clearly not catching on. “Look, I called in some favors. Got copies of some SHIELD records you might find interesting.”

“SHIELD?” She narrowed her eyes, trying to recall what little she knew. “The spy organization that collapsed a few years ago after all their files were leaked by one of their top agents, revealing they were corrupt from the beginning? What do they have to do with anything, and what could you have possibly found that wasn’t already out there?”

“Not all their files were transferred to digital copies. I’ve got a whole stack of ‘em from 1987, and they all talk about something that turned out to be a million-dollar mistake.”

Hope let out a quiet noise. “The year Mom died.”

“Yeah,” Scott said softly. “Most of it’s redacted, but...I found her name in here. And I don’t know why.”

She clutched her phone a little bit tighter. “What else is there? Names, organizations…there has to be something.”

There was a brief moment of silence on his end except for the sound of him rapidly flipping through papers. She held her breath. “Nothing that seems related to the Ghost theory, but - wait. Your dad’s name is here, says - ” he paused to clear his throat “ - ‘Henry Pym’, something something, ‘interference’, something something, ‘Dr. William Foster’...the rest of it just a whole lot of nothing. It’s nothing.” He let out a frustrated sigh; she heard him toss the files aside in annoyance.

“Dr. Foster is something,” she remarked. “And if Hank is mentioned, then...knowing him, there’s something he’s keeping from us. From me.” She sat up. “Come by my place tomorrow morning, bring everything you have.”

“Your place?” he repeated.

“You’re not _that_ naïve, Scott. If we’re seen together in public before the movie’s been announced, people will talk. We have to be discreet,” she insisted.

“Yeah, but...don’t you think me being seen heading into your apartment is _more_ suspicious than us being seen getting coffee together?” he pointed out. “Besides, if rumors start going around...can’t be any worse than the stuff they said about me when I got locked up.”

“Or me when I started using my mom’s name,” she said, sighing. “Fine. I’ll get us a table at a brunch place with a private room, no security cameras - we can’t risk those files being seen by anyone else.”

“I’ll look for more names in the meantime,” he added. “There’s gotta be more than just your parents and Dr. Foster.”

“It’s a start.” She glanced at the clock. It was almost 10:10 PM. “And Scott?...thank you.”

He let out a half-embarrassed, half-pleased cough. “Yeah, yeah, no problem. Uh, see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” she said softly, right as he hung up on her. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes - what else did she expect from him? - before setting her phone on her bedside table, unsure of whether she was going to be able to sleep.

* * *

When Scott arrived at the address Hope had texted to him, he was immediately intimidated by the “brunch place” in question. It was one of those fancy pseudo-French places that Maggie had formed a taste for in the early years of their marriage, where the menus were in cursive and the waiters were in ties. The host eyed him dubiously the second he stepped through the door, eyeing his cheap T-shirt and the hole in his jeans. Once he gave Hope’s name, however, Scott was then escorted to the very back of the restaurant and through a heavy wood door with a stained glass window into a surprisingly spacious room with a skylight and whitewashed brick walls covered in ivy trellises.

Hope was already there, looking put together as always, on her phone as per usual. She barely looked up when he sat down across from her. “Did you bring everything?”

“Good morning to you, too,” he drawled, pulling out a stack of manila folders from his bag. “Can I at least get some coffee first before we talk shop?”

Relenting, she took the folders and exchanged it for the menu, watching his eyes practically pop out of his head at the sight of the prices. “I’ll pay for us both, order whatever you want. Did you find more names?”

“Yeah, uh, Dr. Elihas Starr?” It came out more like a question. Scott briefly looked up from the menu to pull out one of the files for her, their fingers brushing as he did so. “That’s pretty much it. Those were the two names I saw the most, Foster and Starr. Everyone else was a one-time mention, your parents a few times...it’s not much to go on.”

“So we have two leads,” she prompted.

“Not exactly,” Scott said, wincing. “I looked them both up. Foster’s currently teaching at Berkeley, but Starr died in 1987. And…” He hesitated. “...his obituary said he died in a plane crash.”

Hope leaned back in her seat, a series of indecipherable emotions crossing her face in quick succession. “That has to mean something. No one could _ever_ tell me where Mom was flying to and what plane she was on. If we look more into Starr, we’ll probably find the same thing. Did he have any family?”

“It gets worse,” he admitted. “The obituary says his wife also died in the crash, and they left a daughter behind.”

She briefly covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut and turning away from him. For a moment, Scott thought she was about to cry. Then, Hope straightened up, her face becoming decidedly neutral once more. “As for the more immediate problem on our hands, I have a conference call with the Foundation board members this afternoon, and then Darren is taking me to dinner. I’ll have to question him without him catching on, but I know how his mind works, it shouldn’t be too difficult. He thinks I’m feeding _him_ information about Hank, not the other way around.”

“Dinner?” Scott repeated dubiously.

“Is that the only part you heard?” she scowled, rifling through the file on Starr.

“I’m just thinking out loud here - is it safe for you to be alone with him? He’s trying to ruin Hank’s life, who’s to say he doesn’t have something in mind for you?” he suggested.

“I have reason to believe he’s...romantically interested in me.” If Scott didn’t know any better, he would have said she looked embarrassed by the very idea. “He’s driven by emotion, almost to the point of insanity. When we met for the first time as adults, we shared stories about how much we despised him for what he did to us. This whole time, he’s been convinced that I want to take him down, too. He thinks that working together will be the push he needs to get me to reciprocate.”

“Right, ‘cos nothing says romance like conspiring to screw over your dad,” he snorted. “Just - be careful, alright? A guy like that, willing to risk _that_ much for revenge? He might not be all that...rational.”

“I don’t need your advice, Scott,” she said testily. “I don’t even need your help.”

“Really?” He leaned back, tossing the menu aside so he could fold his arms across his chest. “Then why am I here?”

The slight squeak in the door hinges cut her off before she could respond. Their waiter walked in, completely oblivious to the mood, and offered to take their orders. Hope immediately plastered on a false smile and rattled off hers, side-eyeing Scott while he gave his. Once the waiter left, neither of them seemed inclined to pick up the conversation where they’d left off. They instead turned to the stacks of files in front of them, the only sounds being the shuffling of papers and the French music crooning in the background.

Hope’s gaze flickered back to Scott after a few minutes. “There are...a _lot_ of mentions of my parents in here. Every single one of these files. It’s almost... _too_ much.” She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Hank must be keeping something from me. My parents had to have been directly involved with SHIELD to be referenced this many times across _this_ many occurrences.”

“The only way you’re gonna find out is if you ask him about it,” he suggested. “Worst case, if he doesn’t talk, we can go meet with Dr. Foster in person and see if this thing that involved Starr and your mom has the answers you’re looking for.”

“Fine, I’ll call him before I head to dinner.” She frowned. “And what exactly will you be doing while I’m dealing with Hank _and_ Darren?”

He shrugged, grinning that easygoing grin of his that made her eyes vaguely twitchy. “Memorizing my lines, of course. We’re back on set tomorrow.”

* * *

Hope ended the conference call with the push of a button and the nauseated rumble of her stomach. Somehow, the most enjoyable part of her day so far had been spending her morning with Scott. After they’d moved past the hostility that she had admittedly caused, they had a civil conversation interwoven with their silence while poring over the SHIELD records. They hadn’t found much else to go on aside from the recurring names, so now she was sitting at her desk in her home office, mentally preparing herself to call Hank.

As far as she was concerned, her father had always been at his best when her mother was around, her warmth and vivaciousness a welcome companion to his dry wit and confidence. Growing up at a distance had only exacerbated his less desirable personality traits for her. Still, when she was feeling a little nostalgic for what could have been, she found herself pulling up old interviews of her parents and watching them with a bittersweet smile.

Sighing, Hope opened her laptop to find an old favorite, wanting to settle her busy mind before calling Hank, lest she carry over the tension of the conference call into her conversation with him. It was the grand opening of the Hope for Science Foundation in all its fuzzy 1980s glory, an interviewer with comically-large glasses sticking a microphone so far into the shot that it obscured the entire bottom half of her parents’ faces.

“This is a celebration for all our hopes and dreams coming true - the grand opening of the Foundation, and the birth of our darling baby girl.” Hope had watched this particular clip so many times she could mouth the words along with her mother, tearing up every single time she did. “Our precious little jellybean.”

Then, a glimpse of someone over Janet’s shoulder caught Hope’s eye, someone who was laughing and smiling and clapping Hank on the shoulder like they knew each other well. She didn’t recognize him, yet, he looked...familiar.

Hope opened another browser tab, hesitating before typing in what her instincts told her to. It led her to Berkeley’s faculty page, and she only had to scroll for a few seconds before she found his photo. She switched back and forth between the two tabs, unable to do anything but stare in disbelief. Then, she picked up her phone.

“Hope?” It took a few rings for Hank to answer. “Is something wrong?”

“Who is Dr. Foster, and how long have you known him?” Her voice trembled; she hated the way it sounded. “He’s a biochemistry professor at Berkeley, but he used to be a scientist at SHIELD, didn’t he?”

“I don’t - ”

“I’m watching old footage of the Foundation and he’s standing right next to you, so _don’t_ tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she spat. “I found your names together in some old SHIELD records, along with Mom and Dr. Elihas Starr. You two met at SHIELD, didn’t you? And then you recruited him for the Foundation?”

Hank let out a long sigh. “I - yes, Bill and I have known each other for a long time. We met when your mother and I were looking for talent for the Foundation. And yes, one of the places we looked was SHIELD.”

“They just, what, _let_ you walk in and interview their scientists?” Hope shook her head, scoffing. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Hank. Tell me the truth.”

There was a longer pause. “SHIELD became interested in us when we announced the intentions of the Foundation. To them, we were just two actors in the height of our careers with no scientific background and no business experience, wanting to run a science-based company. They wanted to get ahead of us before we tried to get too ambitious, so they had us meet with some of their project leaders and see if we could work something out. Every single one of them sucked up to us, told us how much they loved our films and how excited they were about us investing in science. But there was one man who told us we were being needlessly arrogant and would only create chaos.”

Hope leaned back in her seat, a disbelieving smile crossing her face. “So you hired him.”

“On the spot,” Hank replied wryly. “He split his time between SHIELD and the Foundation. Once he began to trust your mother and me, he would invite us to his SHIELD lab and show us what he was working on. We liked what he was doing and we had the money, so we offered to invest in his work. Unfortunately, we also began to fight constantly once we spent more time together, so he left the Foundation and took everything with him. I haven’t seen him since.” He hesitated. “Hope, what does Bill have to do with anything?”

“Mom _and_ Dr. Starr reportedly died in plane crashes in the same year in a matter of _weeks_ after SHIELD made a million-dollar mistake. The only other names mentioned in these records more than once are you and Dr. Foster. That means you know something,” Hope insisted.

To her surprise, Hank almost sounded choked up. “You don’t know how much I wish I did. But all I can tell you is that Janet went to talk to Bill one time after he left the Foundation, so I had to go to SHIELD and - ”

“ - and interfere,” Hope said quietly. “What did she want to talk to him about?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Another long sigh. “Like I said, I never saw Bill again. I didn’t see him at all that day. I had to meet with your mother in the lobby because I no longer had security clearance, and when I asked her what was going on, she told me not to worry.”

She clicked her tongue. “Then Scott and I should go talk to him.”

“Be careful, Hope,” Hank warned. “It’s been decades. He might not be so receptive to questions.”

“Considering I have Mom’s name and not yours, he _just_ might be willing to answer,” she retorted. “I have to go, Darren’s expecting me.” She paused, a fleeting moment of guilt settling in her stomach alongside her nausea. “Thank you, Hank. For being honest.” She hung up before he could say anything else, letting out a long exhale of a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

Her phone went off mere seconds later; this time, it was a text notification from her publicist.

_Two different people posted IGs of you and Lang leaving breakfast this morning, press already contacting me for quotes/confirmation. Next time maybe tell me before you start going around town with your good-looking (and VERY single) co-star???_

Hope groaned, dropping her head into her hands. Darren was going to have to wait a little bit longer.

* * *

Another three full shooting days went by before they had another day off. Filming was going by quickly, and given that it was mostly character work with no special effects or elaborate stunts, they were going to be done in a matter of weeks, not months. Both Scott and Hope were unsure whether that was a good thing, given their limited window of time to deal with everything else.

On the other hand, things were getting...awkward. At the end of the third day, the two of them were sat side-by-side while they got their hair and makeup cleaned off - Hope had an industry function to attend and needed to reset before heading out; Scott planned to go home and binge-watch _Forensic Files_ until he fell asleep in front of the TV - but were finding it hard to look at each other in the mirror’s reflection. It was a little unnerving, given that neither of them had ever filmed something so intimate before. Of course, both of them had done dozens of scenes kissing co-stars that they liked or didn’t care for or even couldn’t stand; it was hardly a notable part of the job. Having her straddle him and push him down into silk sheets for two hours while they were surrounded by lights, cameras, crewmembers, and worst of all, her _father_ , was an entirely different experience. An uncomfortable, distinctively unsexy experience.

Hope cleared her throat. “Dr. Foster has open office hours tomorrow morning. Will you be ready by 10?”

Scott spoke a little too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, that should work.”

He was back to his usual self by the time she picked him up the following day, amicable and good-natured and maybe just a little bit bewildered, now that she’d filled him in on everything Hank had told her about Dr. Foster. He also had asked her how dinner with Darren had gone while they were setting up a scene a few days ago.

“How every dinner with Darren goes. He said I looked lovely and that Hank never believed in us,” Hope had replied with her usual eyeroll. “And I told him...we deserve _everything_ that’s coming our way.”

“Wow. Sounds like you guys had a really productive conversation,” Scott had remarked. Her eyeroll had quickly evolved into a minor death glare.

“Before we meet with Dr. Foster, is there anything else you can tell me about the circumstances of your arrest?” Hope now asked the second Scott stepped into her car.

He scoffed. “Do you start every conversation with a question instead of ‘hi’?”

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Good morning, Scott. What exactly did you get arrested for?”

“Like I said before, I signed a bunch of agreements saying I basically can’t talk about any of it, ever.” He shrugged. “Believe me, if there was something I thought would be useful, I would’ve said so by now. All I can tell you is the story they ran in the papers.”

“Then tell me again.”

“Okay, uh - I was leaving a cast and crew party for the movie I was working on; it was at the director’s house and I was one of the last ones to leave. Saw a woman practically sprinting down the sidewalk in a sweatsuit and no shoes as I was about to get into my car. At the time, there were tons of articles in the Chronicle about women going missing, so I stopped her and asked if she was okay. She told me - _allegedly_ \- that she’d escaped from a high-security lab. I took her in, contacted the authorities, and she was taken into custody the next morning. When reporters started calling around to everyone who was connected to the case, I told them I’d send them a statement. After it got published, more people started asking me about it. At first, I think they believed me, but...Maggie, she started to wonder if maybe...she didn’t escape from a high-security lab, but - ”

“A psychiatric hospital,” Hope said quietly. "That she was struggling with delusions or paranoia."

“Yeah. And, uh, reporters started pressing me for more information, but I didn’t really get the chance to talk to her when she was at my place. She wouldn’t tell me her name, I couldn’t match her with any of the missing person photos that’d been published...I guess once I answered more questions, that’s when the feds got involved. Eight months between that night and the day I got arrested, another few months until my sentence officially started…” His voice dropped so low, she could barely hear him. “...three years in jail. Two years after that before Maggie would let me see Cassie again. And now...I guess I’m here.”

Hope let out a noise that almost sounded sympathetic. “Did you ever figure out who she was?”

“After I got out, I tried digging around some more, but every single news publication seems to have wiped all of the related articles from their websites.” He paused. “Actually...that has to mean something.”

She briefly glanced over at him. “It has to,” she agreed. “Maybe Hank’s theories have some merit after all. It _does_ sound like there’s some huge cover-up going on, and the FBI could be in on it. That woman might’ve been taken right back to where they were keeping her.”

He chuckled. “Now you’re starting to sound like him.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” she said darkly, though she seemed to be teasing him for once.

Once they arrived at Berkeley, they put on their admittedly thin disguises - hats and sunglasses, along with Hope tying her hair back in a loose bun. While Scott was less recognizable to college-aged students, Hope had been in half a dozen movies in the last year alone, all with decently impressive box office numbers among the young adult demographic. Plus, she wasn’t about to risk getting spotted with him in public, _again_. The rags that dared to call themselves legitimate publications had had a field day with the restaurant photos.

After navigating their way through the maze of buildings and corridors, they finally found Dr. Foster’s office just as a student was leaving. “And good luck to you,” Dr. Foster was saying, still standing in the doorway. Upon looking at him, Hope was taken aback by how little he’d aged. Though his face and body had softened over time, he still looked near-identical to how he had in the Foundation footage, his expression kindly yet professional.

“Dr. Foster,” she called before he could step back inside. “I was wondering if we could speak with you.”

“Office hours are over in ten minutes, I have to head to my next lecture very soon,” he said apologetically. “Is it quick?”

Hope removed her hat and sunglasses, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. She smiled almost remorsefully. “I can’t say for sure.”

He did a double-take. “You’re - what, did Hank put you up to this?”

“Not exactly,” she hedged, hesitating. “Please, Dr. Foster. It’s about my mom.”

He sighed, briefly glancing between her and Scott, showing no indication of recognizing him, and gestured for them to follow. “Fine. Get in here before I change my mind.” They walked into what was a typical-looking college professor’s office, overrun with shelves of books and boxes, and took a seat in front of his desk. Dr. Foster sat in his chair on the other side, leaning forward to steeple his fingers pensively. “Do you remember me, Ms. Van Dyne?”

“Please, call me Hope,” she insisted. “Oh, and this is Scott. He’s...helping me.” Scott waved awkwardly. “I’m not sure if I do, but I recognized you in some footage of the Foundation’s opening and I saw your name in old SHIELD records, next to my parents and Dr. Elihas Starr. Hank said Mom talked to you about something after you left the Foundation.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he admitted. “Janet and I still kept in touch since my issues were only with Hank, but only in passing. Certainly no conversation memorable enough for me to know what you’re referring to.”

“It had to be significant enough to be mentioned in SHIELD files,” she replied, sounding less patient by the second. “Anything relating to Hank, Dr. Starr...maybe the projects my parents were funding?”

“I told your parents from the beginning, I didn’t want their money. That was where our problems began,” he said, seemingly frustrated as well. “And Starr? Your mother barely knew him.”

“Dr. Foster,” Hope said, her voice dangerously low. “You worked with my parents for years. You _knew_ them. There has to be _something_ you know that I don’t. Otherwise, you would’ve turned us away at the door.”

Another long sigh. He leaned back, lifting his head to look her dead-on. “It was...a tragedy, what happened to Janet. She was loved by millions. But Starr...he only had his wife and daughter.” He let his words linger for a moment. “He was setting up a demonstration for some visiting donors, and he wanted to show his wife the work he’d done before they arrived. The equipment became unstable, and before they could get away, it...exploded. The entire building shook. I remember feeling it from ten floors up. There was...nothing left of Starr or his wife after that. Janet came to confront me about the accident because she believed it was intentional.”

“Wait, like someone tampered with Starr’s work? Like...someone wanted to kill him?” Scott exclaimed in disbelief.

“Did Mom know something?” Hope pressed.

“The police investigation never found any evidence of interference. As for Janet...she was almost hysterical when she told me. I couldn’t understand half of what she was saying. Security came in to take her down the lobby before I could ask her to explain, since Hank was demanding for her to come back and tell him what was going on.”

“Hysterical?” she repeated, eyebrows knitting together. “In what way?”

“Talking too loud and too fast, tripping over her own words, constantly losing her train of thought...I thought she was drunk, maybe even drugged. It was concerning, seeing someone usually so confident and well-spoken look so...lost.” Dr. Foster looked sympathetic, while Hope just looked horrified. Scott reached over to briefly brush his fingers against her upper arm in a quiet effort to comfort her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“What happened to Starr’s daughter?” Scott asked. “Extended family, foster care…?”

Dr. Foster cleared his throat. “All I know is that she was taken care of.” He glanced back at Hope. “That really is all I can say on the matter, Ms. Van Dyne. I honestly wish I could be of more help, but I really don’t know anything else. I’m sure Hank has bought into the cult conspiracies that people like him tend to fantasize about.”

“Don’t - ” Hope clenched her teeth, then got to her feet. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Dr. Foster. Thank you.” She pulled a business card from her bag and held it out to him. “If you remember anything else that might be useful, an email would really be appreciated.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

When Scott stood up to leave, he caught a glimpse of the photo frames sitting on Dr. Foster’s desk, angled in such a way that he could only see them when standing. One was a decades-old photo of him that was clearly taken in his lab, wearing a SHIELD employee badge and standing beside what was presumably one of his machines. The other was a school picture of a young girl with curly pigtails and bright green eyes. “Your kid?” Scott gestured towards the second photo. “I got a daughter around that age.”

Dr. Foster simply nodded again wordlessly, then turned to his computer to clearly indicate that their conversation was over. Scott hesitated, slightly weirded out by his bluntness, but shrugged it off and followed Hope out the door and back to the car. He could barely keep up with her, her stride so quick that he had to break into a half-jog to match her pace, and was practically breathless by the time they safely got back inside.

“I think we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “What’s next?”

“There has to be something about Starr’s death that made Mom think it was intentional. _That_ could’ve been what got her killed, not the Ghost theory.” Hope sat back, staring down the steering wheel. “If we figure out what Starr’s work was about...only, this could be a wild goose chase that might not even go anywhere. We have to work on Darren, too.”

“Can’t really help you there. I don’t know the guy,” he reminded her.

“Not yet,” she replied, starting the engine.

Scott paused halfway through buckling his seatbelt. “Wait, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a really good time writing this one and I kind of regret limiting myself to just five chapters. I _might_ extend it by a chapter or two just so I can live in this little 'verse for a bit longer and flesh out the relationships and plot some more, or else the last couple of chapters might end up being incredibly long. The comments on the first part were lovely, by the way, thank you for those and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)


	3. Chapter 3

When the movie’s official announcement release was issued to major film publications, it seemed to take all of five seconds for gossip websites and Twitter users to remind everyone of all the photos that had been taken of Scott and Hope over the last few weeks - the restaurant, the Berkeley parking lot, the studio’s head office gates - all accompanied by clickbait titles and hot takes with far too many insinuations that something else was going on. Hope’s team was on it as per usual, politely but firmly quashing all rumors, while Scott was bewildered that anyone was mentioning him in anything that wasn’t about his incarceration.

It didn’t help that the release made the movie sound sordid, too - “a story about lovers being torn apart by time and space, brought together again only in her wildest fantasies” - which made Hope want to throw up a little. The premise was more like this - set in the 1980s (Hollywood’s current favorite decade for remakes and nostalgia), it saw her and Scott’s characters meeting at a work conference, spending the weekend together and falling in love, only for him to disappear soon after and be mourned by everyone who knew him. Meanwhile, she was the only one convinced he was still alive, fighting to get him back despite everyone telling her not to, and he was trapped in some otherworldly dimension, desperately trying to return to his life. Its resemblance to reality did not escape Hope one bit.

“Was the character’s name originally ‘Henry’ in your first draft?” she had sneered over the phone when she’d first received the script. “I’m surprised you managed to find screenwriters who would indulge you.”

Hank had sounded defeated in his reply. “I just want someone to believe me.”

The atmosphere on set between the two of them was incredibly uncomfortable at times, especially when Hope and Scott had to film intimate scenes under Hank’s watchful eye. Still, there was one positive outcome coming from all of this - Maggie had finally accepted that Scott was making good decisions, and allowed him to take Cassie out to lunch on one of his days off. When Scott arrived to pick her up and saw his daughter’s radiant smile, all his worries about Hank, Hope, and the world they’d dragged him into had melted away.

“Mommy says your movie sounds weird,” Cassie remarked after they sat down in an old-fashioned diner, the vinyl seats squeaking beneath them. “She said stuff about the director and your co-stars and…” She trailed off, eyes widening at the menu in front of her. “Daddy, they have milkshakes!”

“You can get one, just don’t tell your mom,” Scott said, glancing around in an exaggeratedly shifty manner to make her laugh. “And what stuff, exactly?”

“She said that Mr. Pym is weird and Hope is stuck-up,” Cassie parroted. “She doesn’t think you’ll get along.”

“It’s _Dr._ Pym,” Scott corrected automatically. He felt strangely defensive. “And we’re getting along...fine. Hope’s not stuck-up, she’s...she’s something.”

“What does that mean?” Cassie asked.

Before Scott could reply, the stern-faced waitress came over to take their order. “Is that everything?” she asked after they finished.

Someone suddenly slid in beside him, shoulders bumping right up against his. Scott jumped, but the newcomer was unperturbed, smiling politely at the waitress, still wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. “Can I get a club sandwich and an iced coffee?”

The waitress didn’t even blink, writing it down before turning and walking away. Scott and Cassie, meanwhile, were left staring incredulously at their unexpected guest. “Hope?”

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think it was important,” she said, somehow sounding both no-nonsense and apologetic at the same time as she removed her sunglasses. “I’ll move to another table once we’re done.”

“You can stay,” Cassie interjected, holding out her hand. “I’m Cassie.”

Hope softened, accepting the handshake with a gentle smile. “Hey, Cassie, I’m Hope. Sorry to interrupt your time with your dad, but I have something really important to show him.”

“Is it about the movie?” Cassie’s eyes were wider than ever.

“Not exactly.” Hope pulled out a single manila folder, which looked significantly newer than the ones they’d been going through in the last few weeks. “Take a look at this.”

Instead of redacted documents like before, the folder’s contents consisted entirely of photographs of varying age and quality. The first was taken at the Foundation’s grand opening, which Scott had become familiar with after Hope had sent him the video in preparation for their visit to Dr. Foster’s office. He continued to flip through the rest, taking in the staff photos, publicity photos, and everything in between. Hope suddenly placed her hand over his to stop him, clearly wanting him to look closer.

At first, it seemed like all the others, another group photo celebrating the Foundation’s accomplishments. Hank and Janet were front and center with a six-year-old Hope standing between them, grinning widely. To Hank’s right was Dr. Foster, and in front of him, a young boy close to Hope’s age with thick brown hair, sporting an oversized bowtie and a too-big smile.

“Is that…?”

“Darren,” Hope nodded. “You know, I...I tried so hard to forget most of my childhood that I almost forgot he used to be in the Foundation’s commercials and print campaigns, long before I made him CEO. Hank wanted me to be in them, too, but Mom wanted me to live a normal life. Like her.” She gestured in Cassie’s direction. “That’s not the most interesting one, though.”

She flipped to the next photo, a behind-the-scenes shot of a Foundation commercial in which the child actors were getting ready in front of a row of vanity mirrors. One of the children was clearly Darren again, accompanied by his mother, as were all the others. The most distinctive part, however, was one little girl who was flanked by _three_ adults, one of which was Dr. Foster. 

“You see her?” Hope seemed to have read Scott’s mind. “Obviously that’s Dr. Foster, but that’s Dr. Starr, Starr’s wife - ”

“That’s the girl on Foster’s desk.”

Hope paused. “What?”

“The girl, that’s the girl in one of the photos on Foster’s desk,” Scott repeated. “I thought it was a _current_ picture of _his_ kid, not - ”

“Oh my god,” Hope breathed. “If Dr. Foster is keeping a picture of Starr’s daughter, do you think that means…”

“I wanna see!” They both jumped at the suddenness of Cassie’s voice, turning to see her looking pleadingly at them. “Daddy, please?”

“Sorry, peanut, I can’t let you look,” Scott said gently, turning the folder so it blocked her view. “And hey, we can’t assume anything. Maybe it was his way of remembering Starr.”

“Ava.” Hope turned the photo over, where names were scrawled in neat script. “Her name is Ava. She’s younger than Darren and I. She was mentioned in her parents’ obituary, but when I went looking after I saw this photo...she’s actually been missing since the day her parents died.” She briefly glanced back at Cassie again, measuring up what was appropriate to say in front of her. Cassie was listening with rapt fascination, though she looked disgruntled at being left out. “No one can account for where she was that day, either.”

Scott fell silent for a moment, racking his brain for answers. “I’m just thinking...in this picture here, she’s, what, three, four years old?” Hope nodded. “In the picture on Foster’s desk, she was definitely closer to Cassie’s age - around seven, eight-ish.”

“So if he has a photo of her from after her disappearance…” Hope trailed off, chewing her lip contemplatively. “...something is off here, Scott. _Really_ off. And I can only think of one possible way to get some actual answers out of everyone.” She pulled out her phone, searching for something, then brandished it in his face. On the screen was the Foundation’s event webpage, boasting a dramatically-lit image of its headquarters and fancy scripture announcing the thirty-fifth anniversary gala that was being held in the coming weekend.

“You lost me."

Hope huffed, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Darren is obviously going to be there, Hank _has_ to be there now that he’s officially back in the public eye, and I can convince Dr. Foster to come and see how the Foundation has been doing since he left. With all three of them together...there has to be _something_ there. Plus, it’ll be the only time Darren definitely won’t be in his office, which means you and I can look through his things and try to figure out what he’s planning.”

“I’m invited?” Scott asked rather obtusely.

“A party?” Cassie perked up. “Can I come?”

To Scott’s surprise, a mischievous look crossed Hope’s face, and she reached across to squeeze Cassie’s hand. “It won’t be as fun as it sounds, you know. Lots of adults talking about how to run businesses and how to make money, pretending they like each other.” Cassie giggled. “You’ll have way more fun doing pretty much anything else with your dad another time, I promise.”

“I guess so,” she agreed, still smiling.

Hope let go of her hand and turned back to Scott. “I’ll pick you up at 7,” she said, clearly giving him no say in the matter. At his half-hearted nod of agreeance, she tucked the folder back into her bag and stood as if to move to another table.

“Aren’t you gonna stay with us?” Cassie asked. “I wanna hear stories about the cool movie stuff you get to do!”

“I - ” Hope was completely caught off-guard, looking at Scott to silently ask him what to do. He simply shuffled over to give her more room, gesturing for her to sit back down. With a soft smile, she lowered herself back down in her seat, setting her bag on the ground. “I could tell you about how I almost broke your dad’s nose earlier this week,” she offered. At Cassie’s eager nod and Scott’s regretful groan, she had a feeling it was a good place to start.

* * *

Hank found himself lingering in the lobby of a building he used to know the ins and outs of, glancing down at his wristwatch despite there being an enormous clock on the wall opposite him. On either side of the ornate timepiece were two portraits that had been commissioned long ago, depicting him and Janet in the height of their careers. A security guard had come up to him ten minutes ago and asked to see his invitation, only for Hank to gesture at the portrait with a weary grunt; the gala’s security team had left him alone ever since.

Party guests streamed past him in large swathes, barely noticing his presence. He overheard many of them gushing about how Hope was going to be there, how much they enjoyed the last movie they’d seen her in, some crime thriller that Hank had put on in the background once and had ended up entirely engrossed in its plot. Though he knew he had little to do with her accomplishments, he couldn’t help but feel proud that people seemed to speak so highly of her, aside from the occasional comment about her rumored coldly professional demeanor. He had been like that himself back in the day; it was only Janet who could properly coax him out of his hyper-focused headspace, convince him to enjoy life for what it was.

“Hank.” He turned to see Hope and Scott approaching, dressed in all-black - her in a floor-length gown, him in a three-piece suit, a stark contrast to the colorful (and sometimes gaudy) wardrobe they had to wear in the film. “Darren wants you to make a speech before dinner. He only texted me about it a few minutes ago.”

“For everyone’s sake, you better tell him no,” Hank grouched.

“I’ll say yes to anything and everything that will stop him from getting suspicious,” she replied shortly. “We’ll see you inside.”

Hope looped her arm through Scott’s and weaved her way through the crowds with the confidence of someone who’d done it many times before. Passersby would sometimes reach out to her as if to touch, as if to grab her attention, but she merely smiled and waved and continued on until they reached the press area, set up right in front of the main hall’s doors. They stepped right in front of the photo backdrop - an elaborate wall of beautiful yellow roses - and she turned to face him, her hands briefly coming up to rest on his shoulders.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he muttered under his breath.

“At the moment, fixing your tie,” she replied matter-of-factly, fussing at the Windsor knot despite it being perfectly tied by her stylist (she’d insisted he use one for once, at least for tonight). Bright lights flashed in their faces as the photographers ignored everyone else who was waiting to get their picture taken, calling their names over and over again. “Remember, just smile and nod, don’t answer any questions. Considering the rumors, all they’re going to want to ask you about is me, _especially_ since you’re my plus one and not an actual invited guest.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said dryly, letting out an abrupt cough when she tightened his tie. “O-kay, lead the way.”

Hope interlocked her arm with his once again and turned them both towards the cameras, plastering on the false smiles they’d gotten used to over the years, refusing to react to the frenzied pleas and taunts of some of the more overeager reporters. Only one of them seemed interested in asking about the gala, so Hope’s publicist led them over to her. “Ms. Van Dyne, how does it feel to be celebrating the Foundation’s thirty-fifth anniversary?”

“I feel...old,” Hope replied with a laugh. “I was watching the opening ceremony the other day, and it was really something special, seeing my parents holding me and taking photos and talking to reporters, getting excited about everything the Foundation was and what it could be.”

“And now that your father’s back, now behind the camera instead of in front of it, what has that been like for the two of you? What’s it like working with him again?” the reporter prompted.

“There has been a lot of speculation about my relationship with him over the last several years, but we’ve been working really well together, and we’re stronger than ever,” she said smoothly, though the slight hitch in her breath indicated otherwise. “We’ve had tension on-set, of course, but it wouldn’t be an honest relationship without it. We’re both stubborn people, it’s natural.”

“If your mother - ” the reporter began, but Hope’s publicist shook her head. The reporter smiled apologetically, realizing she’d overstepped. “It was good to see you, Ms. Van Dyne. I look forward to the rest of the gala.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your evening,” Hope added, relieved, and her publicist quickly whisked her and Scott inside the main hall before the other reporters could object. They found their table - not that it was difficult, given they were in front of the stage, dead-center - and Scott sat down while Hope remained standing. “I have to go prepare for the opening statement. Hank and Dr. Foster will be joining you shortly.”

“What - I - sure, okay,” Scott said, shaking his head incredulously. “Hey, good luck out there.” She nodded once, then disappeared into the crowd.

Scott soon found himself sitting around awkwardly, unable to do much but sip champagne and people-watch as they went by. Fifteen long minutes passed before someone finally joined him at the table, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling when he realized who it was.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the man said airily, extending a hand. He was tall, well-dressed, with an unsettlingly charming smile on his face. “Darren Cross. And you’re Scott Lang. I have to say, your movies were some of the go-to's in my college days when I needed a good laugh.”

“Oh, I - ” Scott accepted his hand, shaking it firmly. “ - I’m glad to hear it. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Cross.”

“I would usually say Hope talks about you all the time, but she’s a very private woman,” Darren continued, sitting down and leaning back in his seat, seemingly sizing Scott up. “She’s also a very _special_ woman, don’t you think, Scott?”

Scott hesitated. “She’s...something.”

Darren’s smug expression suddenly vanished at the sight of another person approaching the table. “Hank.”

“Yes, I’m still alive,” Hank grumbled, lowering himself into the chair on Scott’s left. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“I didn’t know Hope put you on the guest list,” Darren said tightly. “I’m so glad you could make it today.”

Hank grumbled something nonsensical under his breath, only for _him_ to freeze when yet another person sat down, this time directly across from him. “Bill.”

“Hank,” Dr. Foster said shortly.

“ _Hope_ ,” Scott cursed quietly to himself. He was starting to wonder when his life had turned into a comedy of errors, only no one was laughing.

“We would like to invite everyone to take a seat at their assigned tables. Please welcome Hope Van Dyne to the stage!” a pre-recorded voice boomed over the hall’s speakers. The lights dimmed, much to Scott’s relief, minimizing the ability for everyone to continue exchanging hostile glares across their table.

Hope crossed the stage with a radiant smile, the crowd instantly responding with thunderous applause. She waved to their table, though Scott wasn’t sure if she was looking at him or Hank. Either way, it only seemed to irritate Darren further. “Thank you all for joining me tonight in celebration of the Foundation’s thirty-fifth anniversary. When my parents met on the set of _Stinger_ forty years ago, it wasn’t just their passion for film that brought them together. It was their love of education, of science, of discovery. From that love came the birth of an idea. And me,” she added with a sly grin; the audience responded with appreciative laughter.

“Since then, the Foundation has funded dozens of projects that needed someone to believe in them, started hundreds of education programs that children needed to thrive, and inspired _thousands_ to share that love, to become part of something greater than just us.” Hope smiled ruefully. “Tonight, and always...I would like to dedicate the Foundation to my mom. If she were still here with us today, I would want her to know that she made all of this happen. That she inspires you and me, every single day.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”

The room burst into explosive cheers, barely noticing the way she practically ran right off the stage. A projector screen followed soon after and began playing a montage about the Foundation’s history, the crowd reducing their volume to polite chatter. When another few minutes went by without her return, Scott wordlessly motioned to Hank that he was going to go look for her. Hank looked murderous, given the current company he was being left alone with.

Scott found her in the hallway just outside the main hall, sitting on a padded bench by the bathrooms. He could instantly tell something was wrong - her breaths were labored and short, her eyes squeezed shut. She barely reacted to the sound of his footsteps when he approached. “Not now, Scott.”

“You’re gonna miss your dad’s speech,” he said lightly, coming to a stop in front of her. “Might even miss the appetizers.”

“Is everything a joke to you?” she snapped. “Just - go back inside and make sure they keep things civil. I’ll meet you at the elevators in fifteen minutes.”

“Hope.” He knelt down in front of her so they could be eye-to-eye, though she refused to look at him. “If this is about your mom...I can kinda buy into the Ghost conspiracy, too. People being kidnapped and used in secret experiments isn’t exactly a new concept, and now that we know about her involvement with SHIELD and some of its biggest mistakes...y’know, it’s possible she’s still out there.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head adamantly. “Whether my mom was killed in a plane crash or taken by mad scientists or whatever else people want to lie to me about, it won’t change the fact that she’s gone. Hank is lying to _himself_ if he thinks we can get her back. And even _if_ we could, she won’t be the same. She never will.”

“Hey. Hope, look at me.” Surprised, she finally lifted her head to see Scott staring back at her, his expression completely serious. “When I was in prison, all I could think about was how different things were gonna be when I got out. I thought about how I was going to be different, how my relationships were going to be different...I couldn’t stop thinking about whether Cassie was ever gonna want to see me again. I was more cynical, more temperamental, more...just, not the dad she knew. Not the one that she deserved.” He paused to gauge her response; Hope’s eyes were suspiciously glossy. “But once I got out, and once Maggie finally let me see her again, I realized it wasn’t about me and her. It was about us. And if your relationship with your mom was - _is_ \- anything like mine and Cassie’s, then _when_ you get her back, you’ll find a way to make it work. Because you’ll want to, not because you need it to. Because it means that much to both of you.”

Hope exhaled, her breath coming out shaky. Then, she reached for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his and squeezing. “Thank you,” she said quietly. He nodded, smiling. A moment passed, then she got to her feet, her expression clearing, and let go of his hand. “We might as well head up now. Wherever they think we are, we might as well keep letting them think it.”

* * *

To Scott’s utter lack of surprise, Darren had the largest corner office on the top floor of the Foundation’s headquarters. Hope’s access card got them inside, and with her having previously sweet-talked the security guards in the monitor room to loop the footage and look the other way, they were in business.

“Do you actually know his password?” Scott asked dubiously as she sat down at Darren’s desk.

“IT has a password reset protocol that takes place every three months. Darren would’ve received a call this morning, telling him that his reset was done during last night’s server maintenance and it didn’t process properly, so they’ll do it manually from their end,” Hope replied without looking up, continuing to type. “Are you just going to stand around and watch, or are you going to actually help?”

He held his hands up defensively - clearly, she’d already gotten over the nice moment they’d shared downstairs - and walked over to the filing cabinets along the opposite wall, only to find that they were all locked. He then wandered aimlessly around for a moment to look for the next thing that could help him look busy, eventually landing on the coffee table by the windows. Scattered across its surface were news articles that had been printed from various websites. Some were dated as recently as a few hours ago, while others were archived articles stretching back as far as 1980. The oldest was about the Foundation’s opening ceremony, boasting a group photo that they had both become very familiar with. The newest was a gossip piece about Scott and Hope being seen at the diner, accompanied by a very clear photo that made Scott’s blood run cold.

“Hope...they have pictures of my daughter.” She looked up from the monitor to see Scott had completely frozen on the spot. “They published pictures of Cassie. They’re not supposed to know anything about her or what she looks like, or, or - ”

“Scott.” She was out of her chair and across the room in an instant. “My publicist told me the second they were posted. She already sent over a statement to the photo agencies and news publications, telling them if they don’t take the photos down and scrub all mentions of Cassie, I’ll sue on your behalf. She got in touch with Maggie’s publicist and they’re on it, too.”

“Wait, then why didn’t you tell me?” he protested. “She’s _my_ daughter, _I’m_ supposed to be the one protecting her.”

“I needed you to focus.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I know you're worried about her, but I have everything under control. And for what it’s worth...it’s my fault they took pictures. If I hadn’t shown up - ”

“Hope,” he interrupted, his voice dark; it caught her off-guard. “That wasn’t your choice to make, okay? Look, I get it, you want to control everything and everyone around you - ”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Scott, I get enough of that from Hank and I _definitely_ don’t need to hear it from you,” she retorted, taking a step back as if she’d been slapped.

“ - but my daughter’s privacy, her _safety_ , that’s between me and Maggie,” he finished, eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me what was going on.”

“I was going to - wait, do you hear that?” They both went quiet, silence buzzing in their ears momentarily before it was interrupted by the muffled sounds of shoes clicking against the floors and voices whispering urgently to one another. Hope ran back to the computer to log out while Scott quickly surveilled the room to make sure nothing else had been touched. “Across the hall, my office,” she whispered urgently.

They practically sprinted out of Darren’s office and into hers before they could be seen, sitting on the floor with their backs against the door, keeping the lights off. Despite the thickness of the walls, they both held their breath as the footsteps came closer.

“I assure you, Mr. Cross, you will see the fruits of your labor soon.” Darren’s companion was a man with a thick Southern accent, his voice carrying through Hope’s office door. There was something both jovial and vaguely threatening about his tone. “We just need a little more time.”

“I don’t _have_ more time,” Darren snapped. His footsteps were clearly the heavier between the two; he sounded more agitated than before. “You’re not getting another dollar out of me until I see some actual results.”

“Who’s the other guy?” Scott whispered. Hope shushed him, pressing her ear against the door.

“And you won’t see results until we get a little more funds. So you see my problem here,” the man drawled. “I like you, Mr. Cross, I really do. But I’m startin’ to think you’re not taking me and my men very seriously. And if that’s the case, there’s some people who might be interested in hearin’ about our little deal. Ms. Van Dyne, maybe? Or Dr. Pym, I’m sure he’d like to know.”

“This isn’t a deal. This is extortion,” Darren growled. “Will you be ready in two weeks or not?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” the man sing-songed, clicking his tongue. “Just write me the cheque and I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“It won’t be soon enough.” Their footsteps came to a stop right outside Hope’s door. “Wait here.” Darren went into his office for a minute or two while the other man lingered outside, whistling nonchalantly to keep himself entertained. Finally, Darren came back outside, and a shuffle of papers being exchanged could be heard. “Don’t come to the Foundation again. There are people here who might recognize you, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You’re a hard man to find, Mr. Cross. What other choice did I have?” the man said. They could practically hear the smug, leering smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you.” He paused. “Oh, and I caught the last part of Ms. Van Dyne’s speech. I’m a big fan of her movies. She’s a real lovely-looking woman.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Burch,” Darren said firmly. With a sinister-sounding laugh, the man finally left.

“Another lead?” Scott whispered.

She shushed him again, pressing her weight against the door to listen even more intently. “He’s...not leaving. Why isn’t Darren leaving?”

“Maybe he knows we’re in here,” Scott suggested. He glanced around in the darkness, desperately trying to come up with a plan. Then, it hit him. “Give me your lipstick.”

Hope looked at him like he’d lost it. “What?” Her eyes widened even further when Scott undid the buttons of his shirt, her gaze briefly travelling up and down his exposed (and impressively defined) abdomen before shaking herself and looking back at his face. He went on to rebutton it incorrectly so the hem was uneven, leaving the top few buttons undone. “Scott, what are you doing?”

“Lipstick,” he repeated. “We’re both actors, right? So let’s make this look like a movie cliche.”

Hope groaned, finally catching on. Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was resorting to, she dug her lipstick out of her purse and handed it to him, then pulled out a makeup wipe so she could smear her own lipstick and the corners of her eye makeup, while he used his finger to apply a little bit to his own mouth. “This isn’t going to work. I could’ve also just _actually_ kissed you.”

“I think we’ve had enough of each other after these past few weeks,” he snarked, though he seemed slightly less upset than he had ten minutes ago. “After you.”

They both got to their feet, and Hope reached for his hand, her grip a little too tight this time. She plastered a false, dazed smile on her face, and opened the door. “See, I told you that - oh. Darren.” Her face fell so perfectly that Scott was ready to give her an Oscar right then and there.

Darren’s face contorted into a mixture of emotions that neither of them could quite place, finally settling on a tight, lip-curling smile. “Hope. So...the rumors are true.” Her cheeks warmed, her expression indignant. “I’m almost disappointed in you. I thought you’d go for someone Hank would hate.” 

“Hank? He’s practically senile,” Hope snorted with an awful laugh, digging her fingers into the front of Scott’s shirt. He shivered. “What he wants or doesn’t want is irrelevant. It’s about him getting what he deserves.”

“He sounded fine during his speech just now. Only, you wouldn’t know, would you, seeing how you missed it.” Darren’s eyes flickered to Hope’s fingers, watched the way she ran her thumb across Scott’s mismatched shirt button. “Hank _will_ get what he deserves, Hope. That is, if you talked to me.”

“I’m not the one keeping secrets, Darren,” she replied evenly. “And we can have this discussion another time when you’re sober.”

“Oh, I haven’t had a single drink all night.” Darren then rounded on Scott. “Let’s hear Scott’s opinion, shall we? Tell me what you think about this - my mentor, a man who abandoned both me and Hope in our time of need, incapable of caring about either of us, suddenly decided he wanted to be in her life again. Then, he, what, decided to go looking for someone _exactly_ like him to be her leading man? Another father who chose his pride over his relationship with his daughter - ”

“Darren!” Hope exclaimed, but he only held up a hand to silence her.

“ - and _still_ , he refuses to give me the time of day,” he finished. “Go on, Scott, tell me.”

Scott swallowed; sweat was beginning to form on his brow. “Look, man, I’m - I’m sorry that Hank pushed you guys away, but I have nothing to do with any of this. I’m just an actor in his movie.”

“So was I...once.” Darren turned and began walking toward the elevator without a single backward glance. “I’ll see you both downstairs.”

“Darren,” Hope repeated, sounding more desperate this time. “We have to talk eventually.”

“I don’t think so.” He pressed the button to call the elevator to their floor, still keeping his back to them. “After all, what is there to talk about? I guess you could start by telling me why you were in my office.” Hope’s heart skipped a beat. “And then _I_ can tell you why I printed out the article of you two with Scott’s daughter. Her name...it’s Cassie, right?” Scott froze. Darren stepped onto the elevator before either of them could say something.

Once he was out of earshot, they let out the breaths they didn’t know they were holding. “This wasn’t the plan, Scott. He’s supposed to think I’m on _his_ side,” Hope groaned, stepping away from him. “Whatever is going on, he’s - he’s not thinking straight. His plans for the Foundation, talking with that other man, Burch - his agenda has to be something bigger than just ruining Hank. We’re running out of time.”

“He seems pretty ready to screw _me_ over, too,” Scott muttered. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Hope. Maybe I’m not your guy after all, not when Cassie’s safety is on the line.”

“Scott, I...I’m sorry about the pictures. I should’ve told you the second I found out. If I could go back to that day and just ask you to meet with me somewhere else instead, I would.” She stepped closer. “But we’ve come too far to stop now, and I don’t think we can do this without you. No, really,” she insisted when he scoffed, turning to walk towards the elevators. “The SHIELD records, the picture of Ava Starr on Foster’s desk, I would’ve never given either of those a second thought. I hate to admit it, but Hank was right. Getting you involved was the right thing to do.”

They stopped in front of the elevators to wait for one of them to return to their floor. Scott was silent the entire time, so silent that Hope couldn’t help but wonder if he finally decided he’d had enough. When they got onto the elevator, facing one another, it was then that she noticed he was smiling.

“I’m growing on you,” he said, his grin widening.

“Like a weed,” she retorted without missing a beat. “And Darren said something that reminded me of what you said earlier - Hank and I are in each other’s lives again for the first time in years. Maybe it’s time we finally meet halfway. Because we want to.” Scott was still strangely quiet, though his gaze was firmly fixed on her face. His expression was hard to decipher, but it felt familiar. She bit her bottom lip, folding her arms defensively. His eyes briefly went to her mouth. “What?”

“You’re thinking about making up with Hank, you’re telling me I’m actually useful...better be careful, or someone might think you’re in a good mood,” he teased. “You’re...really something, Hope.”

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” she retorted.

His smile softened. “Whatever you want it to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me but I think we've finally established all the major players in the plot! Still unsure of whether an extra chapter or two is needed to include everything I want to, but I should know by the time I post chapter four (which may be late, I haven't gotten very far yet and finals are coming up).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)


	4. Chapter 4

The headlines, as always, were enthusiastic, inaccurate, and a little bit more than insulting for a week or two after the Foundation’s anniversary gala. They claimed to have details of Scott and Hope’s “affair” (implying they were being unfaithful to another, despite neither being in confirmed relationships since Scott’s divorce), Darren and Hank’s first encounter since Janet’s death, and a dozen other theories that lacked taste and tact. Hope’s publicist was working overtime, claiming that Hope and Scott were “enjoying each other’s company” and refusing to elaborate. Scott’s agent mostly wanted to wash his hands of the whole situation.

They were relatively unbothered by the speculation, though, given the more important matters at hand. Scott was elated when Maggie called to say that her and Hope’s joint lawsuit against the news outlets had been victorious, forcing them to take down all the photos and articles about Cassie. Meanwhile, Hope was thrilled when new rumors started to circulate, suggesting that the Foundation’s board members were considering asking Darren to step down (they hadn’t; her publicist had come up with the idea in the midst of dealing with the relationship debacle). The movie was the least of their concerns, but it didn’t stop their final shoot days from dragging on for what felt like forever.

“I thought I’d lost you for good,” she murmured, cupping his face tenderly in her hands, tears threatening to fall. “Tell me, what was it like? Being...somewhere else?”

“I - it was - ” Scott’s mind went blank. Whether it was the intensity of the color of her eyes, her knee nestled snugly between his legs, or the warmth of her fingers along his jaw, he couldn’t be sure. “Line?”

Hope groaned, immediately breaking character to let go and lean away from him. She turned to shoot a disparaging look at Hank, who was sitting in his director’s chair, watching them pensively. He scoffed, then called for a scene reset. “The line is ‘it was beautiful’, Scott. It’s three words.”

Hank was grumpier than ever, especially since the gala, increasingly frustrated that they kept hitting several dead ends. Darren and Dr. Foster had been tight-lipped for the rest of the evening, doing nothing but exchanging polite, awkward pleasantries and refusing to take the bait. In the end, they learned nothing more about Dr. Starr or his daughter, Darren’s plans for the Foundation, or Janet’s possible connection to anything at all. They had only walked away with one name - “Burch”.

“B-i-r-c-h like the tree?” Scott asked when he and Hope were getting their makeup touched up between takes. Their bodies were still entangled; he was becoming increasingly paranoid about the press of her leg against his crotch.

“I didn’t get much of a chance to look through Darren’s computer, but I think I remember seeing the name in there somewhere. B-u-r-c-h,” she replied. She was starting to wonder why he was weirdly fidgety. “It’s not like I’ll be able to get into his office again. He obviously doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Should we be worried?” At her puzzled expression, he added, “For your safety, I mean. The whole ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ thing.”

“Life isn’t a series of bad movie cliches, Scott. We’re probably in the back of Darren’s mind right now. Whoever Burch is, he managed to make Darren more anxious than any Foundation board member ever did.” Hope chewed her bottom lip; the makeup artist let out a cry of protest. “I can look more into Burch. Can you press Dr. Foster about Ava? If you relate to him from a paternal perspective...he might finally tell us the truth. All of it. Even if it ends up not having anything to do with Mom, I’d feel better knowing that Ava turned out okay.”

That was how Scott found himself navigating Berkeley’s campus once again a few days later, this time by himself. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy - their conversation during the gala dinner had been pleasant enough, but if there was something more sinister going on, he’d have no way of predicting how Dr. Foster was going to react.

“Dr. Foster.” Scott knocked on the wall just outside his office; the door was open this time. “I had a few more questions for you if you’ve got some time.”

“Mr. Lang.” He looked up from his work in surprise. “I’m surprised to see you without Ms. Van Dyne. All those news sites make it seem like you’re attached at the hip these days.”

Scott nodded awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say until Dr. Foster gestured for him to take a seat. “Uh, okay, I don’t know how to put this in a way that doesn’t sound completely crazy, because we’ve been thinking about this a lot, but you were really helpful with telling us what happened to Dr. Starr and Hope’s mom, and I know you’re not a huge fan of Hank, personally, I think the guy has his moments, and - ”

“Mr. Lang,” Dr. Foster interrupted firmly. “I think we’re both busy men, so if you could get to the point?”

“Right, um.” Scott cleared his throat. “That picture you got right there...that’s Ava Starr, isn’t it? Taken _after_ her parents died...after she unofficially went missing.”

His expression was decidedly neutral. “Why do you ask?”

“Peace of mind, I guess. I got a daughter that age, and...I can’t imagine anything bad happening to her. So I just wanna know that Ava turned out okay, that she’s...I dunno, an adult now, living her life.”

Dr. Foster sighed, reaching for a notepad and writing something down. “I understand your concern. And I’ll admit, I haven’t been completely honest with you. If you meet me at this address, seven o’clock tonight…” He ripped the sheet from the pad and passed it to him. “...I’ll have the answers you need. For everything. Things that I can’t talk about here.”

Scott’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are there people watching you or something?” Dr. Foster gestured pointedly at the security camera nestled in the ceiling corner of his office. “...right, university campus. Uh - thank you, Dr. Foster. I’ll see you tonight.”

The rest of his day was spent in restless fervor - he didn’t have a packed schedule on his days off like Hope, so he went for a run, looked over his lines for next week’s shoot days, and took a nap on the couch. He also sent a text to her, asking if she was free to join him to meet with Dr. Foster. She had declined, saying she was having dinner with the Foundation board members, who wanted to consult with her privately on something Darren had brought to their attention. What it was, exactly, she didn’t know yet.

 _Another day?_ she’d asked. _Don’t think so,_ he replied. _Foster didn’t exactly give me a choice on when and where._

 _That doesn’t sound right_ , she answered. Even through text, he could picture her exact expression - furrowed brow, tight-lipped mouth, hardened gaze. _Wait until I can go with you. You never know what might happen if you go alone._

 _Nothing’s gonna happen_ , he protested. _It’s just Dr. Foster, he’s cool._

 _Then text me at 7:30 so I know everything is fine_ , she insisted. _Remember what Hank said? He might not be as receptive as you think._

Scott had bitten his tongue at that last one, not wanting to remind Hope that she was more like her father than she wanted to admit - paranoia, it seemed, ran in the family - and instead wished her luck with dinner. He then got dressed and called for a car.

He soon arrived at what appeared to be an old, decrepit house that had seen better days, surrounded by a tall iron fence and unkempt grass that grew up to knee-height. The only indication that it wasn’t completely abandoned was the lights that made it feel all the more creepier, glowing through the windows and cutting through the otherwise pitch-black darkness. “Yeah, this seems right,” he drawled to the driver, who didn’t seem moved one way or the other.

The front door opened right as Scott was about to knock, and Dr. Foster appeared with a hasty smile. “Mr. Lang, you made it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Scott replied. “And no offense, but this place isn’t exactly what I was expecting. Berkeley _is_ paying you, right?”

“This used to be a SHIELD safehouse if you can believe it,” Dr. Foster chuckled, gesturing for Scott to follow him inside. The interior appeared to match the exterior, with rotting wood floorboards, peeling wallpaper, and a lack of furniture. Still, it was decently lit with modern fixtures, serving only to further expose its terrible condition. “The security systems have been gutted, but it’s still functional. Mostly. This way.”

The next room was mostly occupied by old equipment that had been pushed aside and concealed underneath dusty sheets. In the center of the room was a table with a couple of cheap folding chairs. The two of them took a seat across from one another, Dr. Foster leaning forward onto his elbows to look at Scott intently.

“I can tell you have a lot on your mind,” he said. “So go on, then. What exactly did you want to talk about? Janet, Ava…?”

“Kind of...all of the above, actually,” Scott hedged. “So you really don’t remember what Janet said to you about the Starrs’ deaths?”

“That really was it, unfortunately,” he replied. “Janet’s hysteria always stayed with me, but as for what she actually said, I could never remember.”

“And Dr. Starr...he never worked for the Foundation, right? It was always just SHIELD?” At Dr. Foster’s nod, Scott hummed, and began to think out loud. “Okay, so...Dr. Starr was SHIELD, Hope’s parents only knew about him through you...how did Ava end up being in the Foundation’s ad campaigns?”

“Elihas brought Ava to work quite often. There was a day when both Ava and Janet were there, and when they met, Janet was instantly charmed by her. Practically _begged_ Elihas to let her do a commercial or two.” There was a twitch in Dr. Foster’s eye when he spoke.

Scott was silent for a moment. Then: “Dr. Foster, what happened to Ava on the day her parents died? And how do you have a photo of her that was taken _after_ it happened?”

“Because I raised her.”

Scott blinked. “What - ”

“It’s hard for me to look Ms. Van Dyne in the eye and trust her after putting up with Hank’s ego for far too long. I know, it’s unfair of me to make assumptions about her, but it’s hard to fight old habits. You, on the other hand, seem like an honest man, Mr. Lang. So I’ll tell you.” Dr. Foster bowed his head. “I wasn’t ten floors away from the site of the accident. I was in the room across the hallway.”

“Oh my god.” Scott leaned forward, enraptured.

“I’ll start from the beginning. Elihas was considered to be a bit of a madman among those who worked in SHIELD’s science division, and the higher-ups were hesitant to support his work. When Janet met Ava and offered to pay her generously for being in the Foundation commercials, Elihas was desperate for funds, so he agreed. Since I was the go-between for the Pyms and SHIELD, I looked after Ava, especially on days when neither of her parents were available to accompany her to shoots. At the time, I was something of an uncle to her.”

“Elihas completed his life’s work a few days short of Ava’s fourth birthday, and brought her and his wife to SHIELD so he could demonstrate his machine to them before the investors arrived for his presentation. To this day, I don’t know what went wrong, but as I said before, it was a massive explosion, and the Starrs died instantly. But Ava...she became...something else.” He paused. “I was the first one inside the room while everyone else was running around in a panic, because I knew who was there. All I could think about was Ava. When I saw her, she was...different. Her physical state, it was unstable, phasing in and out of existence. The first thing I tried to do was hold her, comfort her somehow, but she passed right through me.”

“I knew that SHIELD would want to run tests, conduct experiments, wring the poor girl out and hang her up to dry if they found out she’d survived. So I hid her in my office. For _months_.” Dr. Foster swallowed thickly; it was clear to Scott he’d never told anyone before. “Eventually, I convinced them to give me this safehouse so I could run my projects, though it was really for her. But before that, whenever Ava snuck out of my office to go to the bathroom, people would catch glimpses of her, though her altered state helped her disappear and make them think they were seeing things. Still, my colleagues, the ones who thought she’d died with her parents, started to think they were being haunted by her ghost.”

“As she grew older, she began to rebel, as all teenagers do,” Dr. Foster remarked with a wry, fond smile. “I did my best, I really did. I had her legal documents done up as ‘Ava Foster’, I sent her to school so she could live a normal life, but...it wasn’t enough. I woke up one day to find her room cleaned out, and that was the last I saw of her. Of course, I’ve been searching for her ever since, but I believe that Ava may truly be gone. For real this time.”

“Wow.” Scott sat back, letting out a long breath, trying to take in everything he’d just been told. “That’s...that’s crazy. And you’re sure that she left, right? Not that she’s been taken?”

“I considered the idea that SHIELD finally found out about her, but even after the massive information leak from a few years back, I couldn’t find anything conclusive,” Dr. Foster said, his expression darkening. “I can only hope that she’s alive. As far as I’m concerned, she _is_ my daughter.”

“Hey...I get it. I really do,” Scott said sincerely. “How long has she been missing?”

Dr. Foster sighed. “Oh, about six years by now. It’s been...tough.”

Scott slowly got to his feet, something dawning on him that he couldn’t quite place. “Just spitballing here, but...do you have any more recent photos of Ava? Like, from around the time she left?”

“Uh - ” He furrowed his brow in confusion but pulled out his phone anyway, and after a few moments of scrolling, held it up to Scott’s eye level. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Mr. Lang.”

It wasn’t the clearest photo, exactly, taken during a moment where the memory was more precious than the picture that had captured it. Still, it was of a young woman with a bright smile, mid-laugh, with curly hair and intense green eyes, wearing a familiar-looking sweatsuit. Scott felt chills go down his spine.

“Dr. Foster...did I ever tell you how I got arrested?”

* * *

Hope entered the restaurant with a sense of dread, each footstep feeling heavier than the last. As a child, she’d had less-than-fond memories of sitting between her parents at fancy dinners and lavish parties, fiddling with the velcro of her shoes or the runs in her tights to distract herself from tedious conversations. Whether they were about her parents’ films, the Foundation, or any other number of mind-numbing topics, she had been interested in none of them. Even as an adult, she didn’t really care for polite small talk; her preference for straightforward conversation was why she found other people quite exhausting at times. Still, she knew tonight’s dinner would finally lead to some answers on the topic she and Scott had been neglecting - Darren Cross.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” she said with a false smile, taking her seat at the head of the table. Everyone’s idle chit-chat slowed to a stop. “I was in a call with my publicist, it went longer than expected.”

“About your relationship with Mr. Lang?” one of them teased, a man closer to Hank’s age than Hope was comfortable with. “I saw him in passing at the gala - ”

“Let’s order and get down to business, shall we?” Hope interrupted coolly, directing a glare in his direction. He promptly went silent and passed her a menu, exchanging dubious glances with some of the other board members.

Once their server had taken their dinner orders, the head of the board - a stern-faced woman who would’ve been Janet’s contemporary - called for everyone’s attention. “Ms. Van Dyne, we’ve been wanting to discuss this for quite some time now. Mr. Cross brought it to our attention months ago, but we haven’t found a moment to talk.”

“What’s this about?”

“Several months ago, you resumed contact with your father after years of being estranged, correct?” At Hope’s nod, she continued, “You also became more involved with the Foundation’s work at the time as well. Mr. Cross is...concerned that you’re trying to reinstate Mr. Pym by having him replace Mr. Cross himself.”

“ _Dr._ Pym,” Hope corrected automatically. “And why would he think that?”

“Since you were the deciding vote on Mr. Cross becoming CEO, he believes you now regret it,” she pressed on. “He thinks you’ve started meeting with your father again and are letting him influence your actions despite your...contentious relationship, perhaps also due to your regretful feelings towards your mother’s death.”

“Do _not_ bring my mom into this.” Hope’s jaw tightened. “Darren thinks I’m conspiring with Hank...and you believe him, after everything he’s said about Hank in the last couple of _decades_?”

Once again, the board members shared uncomfortable glances with one another. “He came to us with evidence.”

“Show me.”

“Foundation money being shuffled into offshore bank accounts, the formation of shell companies, not to mention his speculation that Dr. Pym’s film is a front to move funds and resources out of the company - ”

“That all sounds like circumstance to me,” Hope said. “Show me decisive evidence, and I’ll listen.” At their frustrated expressions, she leaned back in her seat, folding her arms defensively across her midsection. “I don’t appreciate being ambushed like this, Director. This should’ve come to my attention the second Darren had gone to _you_.”

“This isn’t just your family’s pride on the line, Ms. Van Dyne, it’s the reputation of the Foundation itself,” another board member said lowly. “Do you deny his claims?”

“Completely,” Hope replied. “Darren is a paranoid man who believes others are specifically out to get him, and him alone. My guess is that _he’s_ the one moving resources out of the company to protect himself, with the added bonus of being able to pin the blame on me and Hank if something goes wrong. If you give me time, I’ll find you _actual_ proof.” The bite in her voice wasn’t lost on the others. Her truth wasn’t lost, either - all of them had experienced Darren’s irrationality at one time or another.

Cowed, the board members let themselves become distracted by the arrival of their food, and the conversation shifted to something safer, if a little dull. Hope watched them with both a sense of annoyance and a pang of guilt, knowing that none of them had any true ill intent toward her, unlike Darren. It did sting, though, knowing they would sooner turn on her than dismiss his elaborate claims.

She ducked into the bathroom soon after the entrée came so she could text updates to Hank and Scott. Hank replied right away with his typical level of snark reserved for anything concerning Darren, while a minute, then two, then three ticked by without a response from Scott. _If you don’t reply soon, I’m calling you_ , she warned in a follow-up message. _The Darren situation is worse than I thought._

Hope shot strained smiles at the others who entered the bathroom while she lingered by the sinks, the worried wrinkle between her brows deepening with every minute that passed in silence. The board members were probably starting to wonder where she was.

Finally, ten minutes after her second message had been sent, her phone beeped. _And the Dr. Foster situation is way more interesting than I thought._

 _How so?_ she asked. _Better explained in person_ , he replied cryptically. _Can we meet somewhere after you’re done, maybe your place?_

_Sounds like it can’t wait, then. Call me in two minutes._

She returned to the table with an apologetic grimace, then took another sip of her drink like nothing had happened, while everyone else seemed hesitant to ask. Her phone rang moments later. “Hello?”

_“Uh, why am I calling you exactly?”_

“Scott, I’m in the middle of - what?” Hope gasped.

_“...what?”_

“Oh, that’s terrible. I’ll come pick you up and drive you there, where are you?” she continued.

_“I don’t know what’s happening, what are you - ohh.”_

“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Hope promptly hung up and looked at her companions, now completely bewildered. “Scott’s daughter broke her ankle, he needs a ride to the hospital where they’re keeping her. I have to go.”

“Wait,” the director protested when she got up to put on her coat. “Your meal - ”

“Charge everything to the company,” Hope interrupted sharply. “After all, if you think I’m taking advantage of the Foundation’s funds, we might as well continue thinking it, right?” They continued to stare, speechless, as she walked right out of the restaurant and got into her car. Another text message came in the second she started the engine.

_How are you both a really good actress and a super terrible actress at the same time?_

An honest laugh escaped her before she could stop herself. She shook her head amusedly, pulling out of her parking space, and went on her way.

* * *

Scott was pacing outside her apartment building when she arrived, breaking into an endearingly goofy grin when he saw her step out of her car. “I mean, seriously, Hope, you have a BA in _dramatic arts_ \- ”

“And a BS in biology, _and_ a master’s in business. What’s your point?” Her mouth twitched into something that resembled a teasing smile in return. “Follow me.”

It was his first time seeing her apartment, and it was just as impressive and well-maintained as he expected, if a little impersonal. Monochromatic furniture that was perfectly matched, black and white artwork that adorned each wall, beautiful vault ceilings overlooking the kitchen and sitting room, and floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a gorgeous view of San Francisco. There wasn’t a speck of dust in place; it looked more like a showroom than an actual home. Scott briefly thought back to the pair of jeans he’d found under his La-Z-Boy last night that had rips in it that were older than his daughter.

Hope poured them both glasses of cold water and gestured for him to sit on the couch. “I already got Hank up to speed on the Darren situation, have you told him about yours?”

“We have an early shoot, so I figured I could save it for then,” he replied. “Besides...it doesn’t really have anything to do with Janet, unfortunately. Sorry.”

She gave him a wan smile, joining him on the couch and passing him his glass. “Disappointing, but I’m not surprised. And Ava…?”

“That’s the other thing.” He winced. “Turns out, the last person to see her alive was...me.”

She nearly choked on her drink. “What?”

Scott made quick work of explaining everything Dr. Foster had told him, his voice growing more and more despondent by the end. “I told Dr. Foster not to get the feds involved,” he finished. “Considering what happened last time - I’m gonna bet they snatched her up and took her back to wherever she was being kept before she had the chance to at least get in touch and tell him she was okay.”

“Scott...then that means this _is_ related to the Ghost conspiracy.” She let out a half-impressed scoff. “Hank wasn’t as delusional as I thought.”

He hesitated. “I don’t follow,” he finally said for what felt like the thousandth time since they’d met.

“Just, think about it. The conspiracy revolves around the theory that a science-based cult operating in California has been kidnapping young adults of perfect health to conduct tests, right?” At his confused nod, she continued, “But the ‘ghost’ part isn’t referring to the disappearances. It’s about them being returned after the experiments failed, but having their existence left unsolved. People claim to see their loved ones who went missing, but only in split-second bursts, never long enough for them to be sure that they were really there. If Ava was experiencing ‘unstable phasing’, there’s a chance that _that’s_ what happened to everyone else, too. Maybe...maybe Dr. Starr’s work is the key to figuring out what was really done to them.”

“And since your mom was raising concerns over the accident, maybe she really _did_ get taken by them, _just_ like Hank said!” Scott leaned forward eagerly, his knees bumping against the coffee table and nearly knocking over their glasses in the process. Hope winced at the lack of tact but smiled at his enthusiasm. Then he faltered. “Wait, so do you think Foster lied to us after all?”

“I don’t think we can rule that out,” she admitted. “But Darren...he’s now our immediate concern. He’s trying to pin everything on me, and he told the board that _I’m_ the one moving Foundation resources out of the company because Hank wants me to.”

Scott blanched. “What the…”

After Hope explained _her_ dilemma, the two of them sat in silence for a moment, reeling from the sheer amount of information they’d learned tonight. For the first time in a long while, she was completely unsure of what to do or where to even begin. Whether it was about Darren and the board, about Ava and Dr. Foster, about her parents...it all felt, for lack of a better word, hopeless.

Scott eventually reached for his phone to request a car. “It’s getting late, I should really get going,” he yawned, shooting her an apologetic smile. “We gotta be on set at...I don’t have my call sheet.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hope sighed, taking her and Scott’s empty glasses to the kitchen sink. With her back turned to him, she drew in a breath. “You live pretty far from the studio, right? I have a guest room, so you might as well stay here. Call time is in five hours.”

“Crap, really?” Her offer suddenly seemed to hit him. “Are you sure, I’d hate to - ”

“Scott.” Her voice was soft; she sounded exhausted, too, and not just because it was late. “Can we have _one_ conversation where we don’t argue?”

As he followed her down the hall, he remarked, “I’m thinking that’s more your fault than mine.” She merely chuckled instead of chewing him out, bringing them to a stop in front of the guest bedroom door.

“You know, sometimes I think I’m _this_ close to _actually_ liking you. And then you say things like that,” she said quietly.

“You don’t seem too bothered either way,” he said, shrugging, pleased when she continued to grin despite her weariness.

Her eyes still locked on his, she took one step closer, close enough that the tips of their toes brushed. She then reached around to open the door, smirking a little at his startled expression. “Get some sleep, Scott.”

* * *

The morning was mostly spent in silence, with Hope shoving a thermos of coffee into his hand the moment he blearily stepped out of the guest bedroom, still half-dressed, while she was already completely ready, bag tucked into the crook of her elbow and phone in her other hand. She quirked an impatient eyebrow at his unkempt state but said nothing, sitting at the dining table and sending a flurry of messages to her team while she waited for him to catch up.

They managed to get into Hope’s car on time to beat the morning rush hour, though they ran into another problem not thirty seconds after they had pulled out onto the road. “Dammit, my phone’s dead. Gonna have to charge it in the trailer so I can show Hank what Foster sent me.”

Hope gestured at her bag sitting by his feet with an irritated sigh. “Main pocket, portable charger.”

His phone powered back up just as they pulled into the backlot’s parking lot, and he was promptly taken aback by the slew of text messages and missed phone calls that were waiting for him, the majority being from Maggie. “What - ”

They were startled by a frantic knocking on the passenger window, and Scott rolled it down to see the harried face of one of their production assistants. “Mr. Lang, they’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night, and - if we’d known you were at Ms. Van Dyne’s, we would’ve contacted her as well - ”

“What’s this all about?” Hope interrupted firmly. The production assistant stepped back so they could both get out of the car, a sinking feeling settling deep into both of their stomachs. “Who is ‘they’?”

“His ex-wife and her fiancé, the police, CPS...” Scott’s blood ran cold. “Mr. Lang, your daughter is missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is super, _super_ late, sorry for the delay! I've been unexpectedly busy and sick so it was hard for me to get to the crux of this chapter, and was sitting only a few sentences into Hope's dinner for a week and a half before I finally finished. The fake-out with Foster was kind of fun - I _was_ originally planning on having him hold Scott at the safehouse for more information about Ava, but I figured that his desperation would be different than how it was in the movie. Cassie, on the other hand...well, you'll see in the next chapter (which will be later than a week from now but hopefully not as late as this one was). I'm also going to feature more Hank and more of the film itself since I know both have faded into the background because plot.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for guns, hospitals, and canon-typical violence.

Hope collapsed into her usual chair in the hair-and-makeup trailer, though as far as she was concerned, her mind had wandered thousands of miles away. Scott was still in his trailer; the last she’d seen him, he’d been sitting on the couch, head between his knees, only looking up when his phone went off. She wanted to be there for him - _how_ to be there for him, she couldn’t be quite sure - but Hank had pointed out their responsibility to the rest of the cast and crew, to keep the lights on and the cameras rolling since they couldn’t do much else, no matter how much they wanted to.

“I know we’re all worried about his daughter,” he’d said to her, his tone grave. “But we have scenes we can film without him, so let’s give him some space - ”

“Because you know all about how to help people grieve, don’t you?” Her voice, though sharp, had trembled. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The hours dragged on for far longer than anyone wanted them to, with production assistants running back and forth between Scott’s trailer and whatever set Hope and Hank were on at the time, informing them of what little progress had been made. Morale was low, crew members were restless, and even Hope started to flub more than a few takes. Everyone was relieved when the producers finally called it a day by the late afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to flicker and dim.

Hope went straight to Scott’s trailer without bothering to change out of her character’s clothes. Just as she went to knock on the door, her phone went off. Frowning, she drew it out of her pocket, chills going down her spine when she read the message that was waiting for her.

_Meet at Oui in one hour. Bring Lang and Pym. I have Cassie._

The number was private, but she had no doubts about who it belonged to.

She barged into Scott’s trailer with no patience for politeness and found him sitting right where she’d left him, mumbling into his phone. He barely glanced up at the sound of her arrival, muttering “I’ll call you back” before hanging up and properly turning to look at her. “Hope?” His voice was hoarse; she hated how unenthused he sounded.

“We’re going to get her back, Scott.” She held her phone out to him. “Right now.”

They pulled out of the backlot twenty minutes later with Hank’s personal driver at the wheel, all three of them too tense to speak. Hope was sending off a rapid-fire series of messages to her agent and her publicist as per usual, Hank was silently reviewing his notes from the day’s shoot but found himself unable to concentrate, and Scott was staring at his phone in anticipation of good news that was never going to come.

“What is _Oui_?” he finally asked.

“It’s a high-end French restaurant. I know how much you like those,” Hope replied, resolutely not turning to look him in the eye.

When they arrived, it looked just like any other place too expensive for Scott to even consider stepping into, with low lighting and soothing live piano being the first sensations to greet them. Once they stepped inside, however, it became apparent that everything was not as it seemed.

The open kitchen in the back of the restaurant was unoccupied, and every table was taken up by two or more stern-faced men who made no attempt to disguise their intentions, their fingers tapping ominously against their gun holsters. Only one man was facing them as they came in through the front doors, his eyes immediately locking on to Hope’s, a salacious smile spreading slowly across his face in anticipation. It was not the man she’d been expecting.

“Hope Van Dyne!” His accent was lilting, his tone was unsettling. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in person. I know I would never forget it if we had.”

“Mr. Burch.”

He looked delighted. “You know who I am! Well, that’s just wonderful. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the booth opposite him, where there was clearly no room for anyone but her. “Boys, you know what to do.” Two men approached from behind, and Scott felt the distinctive press of the barrel of a gun in the small of his back. A cold sweat immediately broke out across his forehead, and he turned slowly to see Hank in an identical position, looking as stoic as ever, though the tremble in his lip betrayed him.

“This isn’t necessary.” Hope faltered, looking worriedly at them before turning back to look at Burch, narrowing her eyes. “We can talk without all this – ”

“I don’t believe that’s the case, Hope,” he interrupted smoothly. “Mr. Lang is here for his daughter, after all, so we can’t have him try anything too reckless, don’t you think? And _you_ – what are _you_ here for?” His smile grew even wider. “You thought I was Mr. Cross, didn’t you?”

“I’m guessing that means he’s not here,” Hope said, taking her seat across from him, trying not to think about the sound of Scott and Hank’s shaky breaths behind her. “Whatever deal that’s happening between the two of you, whether related to the Foundation or not, Scott has no part in it. Let him and Cassie go.”

“Come on now, you can’t deny that he has at least a _little_ part in these tangled affairs of ours,” Burch scoffed, leaning back in his chair, drumming his fingers lazily atop the table. “Good ol’ Dr. Pym over there sealed Lang’s fate when he cast him in that movie of his.”

“How so?” she retorted. “If this has anything to do with Darren’s… _fascination_ with me – ”

Burch laughed, a low, condescending chuckle that made her blood boil. “Oh, Hope. If you knew Mr. Cross as well as you’d think, you would know it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about what he thinks he deserves, and how Lang seems to have gotten it all.”

“What, Hank’s attention? His approval?”

“Oh, I have none of that,” Scott piped up, momentarily forgetting about the gun. He squeaked a little when his captor nudged him with it as a reminder. Hank grunted.

“Mr. Cross’s ego is…fragile. I’d go so far as to say his psyche is a little more than damaged,” Burch said, his finger drumming coming to an abrupt stop. “Enough so that he reached out to me. How much do you know about me, Hope?”

“All I know is that your name runs in circles that I have no interest in being a part of.” She leaned forward onto her elbows to look him dead-on.

“And that’s a shame. You’d be a mighty fine partner to have, given that you have your feet in so many different worlds – science, business, entertainment - right down to the nepotism in all three,” he grinned. “You see, Hope, I deal in many different worlds, too. Weapons, technology, all sorts of gadgets and gizmos that would make your pretty little head spin.”

“So that’s what you and Darren are up to – he’s buying up your inventory and whatever twisted new developments you have.” At Burch’s slightly impressed eyebrow raise, she smirked, leaning back to fold her arms across her chest. “Only you’re not working fast enough for him, because he’s on a deadline. If he fails to get the Foundation out from under me and Hank before – something that I don’t know about yet – then everything is over for him.” She quirked an eyebrow back. “How am I doing so far?”

“Splendidly, sweetheart,” Burch drawled. His smile was disarmingly crooked. “And you’re right about the deadline, too. There’s someone else putting a little pressure on him, with him putting pressure on me, and now here I am, putting pressure on you. Let’s just say that the little miss is…insurance.”

“And what am _I_ supposed to do?” Hope snapped. “Cassie is a _person_ , a _child_ , not collateral!”

“It’s simple, really. Cut off the head and pray that two more don’t grow in its place,” he replied. At her unimpressed glare, he continued, “I’ve grown tired of Mr. Cross and our little deal, but I’d rather not be the one to break it, so you’re going to help me. Get his superiors to back off, and Lang gets his daughter back.”

“His superiors being?” Her voice was getting more hysterical with every passing minute. She could feel control slipping through her fingers, desperation settling deep inside her belly and refusing to leave.

Burch laughed again. “Why, HYDRA, of course.”

“ _What?!_ ” Hank exclaimed, lurching forward. His captor immediately grabbed him by the arm and yanked him backward, the gun clicking in warning at his back.

“Come on now, Dr. Pym. You know all about HYDRA’s little infiltration of SHIELD ever since those files got dumped a few years ago. What makes you think some of them scientists didn’t also make their way into _your_ company?” Burch smiled. “And here I thought you were a clever man.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Hank spat. “You’re not seriously saying I hired scientists who were actually HYDRA?”

Hope’s brows knitted together. “Dr. Foster?” she asked tentatively. Hank’s breath hitched.

“I’ve heard the name,” Burch replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But doubtful, I believe Foster’s got other things to worry about. Maybe you know about his little ghost girl.”

Heart racing, Hope shot to her feet. “Enough. You said you had Cassie, so where is she?”

Burch merely looked up at her, then almost lazily drew his other hand out from underneath the table, his gun landing on its surface with a loud clatter. She only just managed not to flinch. “I said I had her. I never said I was bringing her here.”

“You _asshole_ – ” Scott ripped his arm out of his captor’s grasp completely and tore across the restaurant to Burch’s table, skidding across the polished floor, reaching out for Burch, grappling fruitlessly in the air –

“Scott, no! – ”

Burch’s gun was on Scott in a split second, pressed right into his chest, directly over his heart. “Now that was a truly stupid move, Mr. Lang,” Burch panted. “I suggest you get your hand off my neck unless you want this to get real ugly, real fast.” Scott reluctantly withdrew as ordered, though his eyes were still narrowed in silent fury.

“This isn’t a game, Burch, let Cassie go!”

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” he sneered. “If you don’t unburden Mr. Cross, then I guess Cassie will be staying with me for the time being.” He paused. “It really is too bad that neither of you seem inclined to cooperate with me, you know. Especially you, Hope. Breaks my heart.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” she said quietly through clenched teeth.

For one desperate moment, she thought about all the training she’d done, every last class she’d taken, every bruise and twisted ankle and broken bone she’d endured to be as strong as she was, and how useless it was now, surrounded by big men with bigger guns. This wasn’t some movie scene where everyone was choreographed to be taken down by her. This wasn’t a scenario in which she could kick the gun out of Burch’s hand and somehow knock out Hank’s captor, too, take down every last person in the room without a scratch. This was where all their speculation and persistence had brought them, her unexpected naivete leading to this – a situation in which she could do absolutely nothing but let it unfold.

“I’m sure I will,” Burch agreed. Then, a shot rang out, and it was as if the room had momentarily exploded.

Everyone seemed to move at once. The armed men sprang from their seats, running off through the kitchen and out the back door, with the two men that had held Scott and Hank in place now flanking Burch as they sprinted across the room. Scott was unceremoniously tossed aside, letting out a startled cry as he hit the floor, shoulder first, his head making a terrible cracking sound against the tile. Hope reached for him, only to be stopped by the agonized scream behind her.

She turned, her knees finally giving out beneath her, in the realization that Hank was the one who’d been shot.

_“DAD!”_

* * *

Hope shivered involuntarily and curled further into herself in the uncomfortable plastic chair, the kind only found in waiting rooms and old airports, no longer able to comprehend whether it was early enough to be considered morning just yet. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, only for a set of footsteps to be heard, coming to a stop in front of her. She opened her eyes to see Scott standing there, holding out her thermos.

“Filled it with water,” he said hoarsely.

“When did you – never mind,” she sighed, accepting it. “…thank you.” Scott nodded stiffly. Neither seemed to know which of them to be sorrier for. “You should go home, Scott.”

“No, I need – we need answers, we need to make sure Hank’s okay and Cassie’s okay and get that bastard Burch put away, and that Darren doesn’t screw over your company and that Ava is safe and Foster isn’t secretly HYDRA – ” He was pacing back and forth, a manic look in his eyes. The other bleary-eyed occupants of the waiting room watched him nervously.

“Scott,” she repeated, firmer this time, though really, she was just tired.

“Look, what happened back there is my fault, okay? So just – let me fix this. I have to – I gotta fix this.” He looked at her, forlorn. “Please, let me just – please. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“There’s nothing we _can_ do,” Hope said, hating how true it was. “Dad’s still in surgery, the police are raiding all of Burch’s usual hiding places, trying to find her…what we need to do is reset, Scott. Eat and sleep and let the people who know what they’re doing do what they do best.”

Scott hesitated on whether to comment on her sudden use of a previously forbidden word, instead focusing in on the unsubtle hint of guilt lingering in her last sentence. “C’mon, Hope. You _did_ do your best.”

“I really didn’t,” she said, laughing hollowly. “Look, we can lie to each other as much as we want, but neither of us are going to be of any use if we do. Go home and sleep, I’ll text you if something happens.”

He reluctantly stepped back, realizing that he was crowding her, and nodded. “Okay…okay. You staying here?”

“ _Someone_ needs to,” she replied quietly. With one final silent nod, he turned and left. One of the others in the room looked at Hope, _really_ looked at her, recognition crossing her face, but she thankfully said nothing and turned back to her magazine. Hope’s phone went off, probably another text from her publicist who was keeping her up to date on any and all news reports about the _Oui_ shooting, but she merely turned it to silent mode. Her eyes closed once more.

* * *

They called for her what felt like days later but was really only a matter of hours, to a private room that smelled just as sterile as every other room in any given hospital, the steady hums and clicks and beeps of the machines being the first thing to greet her. “He’s awake,” the nurse had said. “It was just his shoulder,” another had added, quieter, as if she didn’t already know. “He was very lucky.”

Hope sank down into the chair at his bedside. “Dad.”

Hank chuckled lowly; his voice was even raspier than usual. “Is that what I am now?”

“You’ve always been my dad,” she said evenly. Then, she reached across to take his hand, careful not to jostle his IV. His fingers were so much… _older_ than the last time she’d held them, wrinkled and spotted and worn. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” He coughed, his chest rattling. “Cassie?”

“Still working on it. The good thing is, they caught Burch and his men. He was trying to buy tickets – with cash – at Pier 33.”

Hank laughed despite himself. “He was trying to escape _to_ Alcatraz? Of all the dumb things in the world – ”

“ – that might be the dumbest,” Hope agreed with a watery giggle. She then sobered. “What did we get ourselves into, Dad?”

“You know…SHIELD once asked your mother and me if we were interested in becoming spies. Insiders in the film industry, you know, to have better access to the mess that was going on behind the scenes. Janet _almost_ took it.” He smiled wryly. “I think she just wanted a codename.”

“Of course she did,” Hope replied, shaking her head. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Our lives would’ve been very different if we’d said yes. Maybe things like this would’ve happened more often,” Hank mused. “The reason we didn’t, though, is you.”

“Me?”

“Putting our lives on the line would mean having no regard for yours. The best way to protect you, Hope, was to keep you close by. To let you know that we were always there for you, no matter what.” Hank’s face fell. “Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way, as much as we tried.”

“I don’t blame you for Mom. Not anymore.” Hope sat up a little straighter. “I know now isn’t the time for us to discuss this, but…I’d like to talk when we can.”

“Hope – ”

“You need to rest. Let Scott and I finish this, whatever ‘this’ is. And then, I promise, we’ll talk about everything you’ve been wanting to tell me since…then.” She slowly bent to press a kiss to his forehead, his skin still a little too warm to the touch. “I should go home and sleep for at least a few hours, but I’ll come back, okay?”

Hank relented, too exhausted to protest. He feebly squeezed her hand. “Fine. Go, rest. And if you talk to Scott, tell him…from one father to another…his daughter will be fine. He can’t give up hope. Not yet.”

Her eyes were wet. “Okay, Dad.”

Hope left his room with a lightness in her heart and her step, relieved that for once, her father’s resilience had not shown itself in the form of stubbornness, but of his own sheer will. When she stepped outside to call a cab – she had left her car at the studio backlot – her phone vibrated. She hesitated, wondering whether it was just another message from her publicist, but checked it anyways, only to read the strangest text she’d ever received.

_I know you’re super exhausted right now, but can you come by my house after you’re done at the hospital? I think I have a ghost problem._

* * *

Hope nearly collapsed into the oversized armchair in Scott’s living room, barely able to stand. It was seven in the morning, she’d slept a collective total of two hours in the waiting room, and was running on fumes in the form of black coffee. Her eyes went to the woman on Scott’s couch, who was wearing a gray tracksuit and had her dark curly hair in girlish-looking pigtails, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve and adamantly not returning Hope’s stare.

“She said she wouldn’t talk until you get here,” Scott had told Hope when she first came inside. It certainly didn’t seem that way now, having not spoken a single word since her arrival.

“Ava.” Her mouth twitched at the sound of her name but didn’t respond. “Why did you come here? _How_ did you get here?”

“Hope, is it?” Her accent was strong, surprisingly so, though her tone was a little abrasive. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“From Scott?” she said disbelievingly.

Ava looked up from her lap, her gaze piercing. “From your mother.”

If Hope wasn’t already sitting down, her knees would’ve given out beneath her for the second time in twenty-four hours. “My…she’s…you’ve seen her?”

Ava’s smile was rather catlike, though a little skittish. “I never told Scott I knew who he was when he took me in the first time. I didn’t want him to think I was some crazed fan, pretending to be disturbed just to get inside his house. So when I heard the two of you were working together, I knew I had to come find you for your mother’s sake.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Your mother is alive, Hope. She wants to see you.”

Hope’s eyes watered; she lifted her hand to immediately wipe away her tears before either of them could see. Still, Scott moved to sit on the armrest so he could squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “I have so many questions, I…but wait, are you – are you alright?”

Ava tugged on her sleeve. “Well, I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped – recently - or shot, and I’m _here_ , so…”

An hour later, Hope was half-asleep on Scott’s couch, Ava was sleeping in Scott’s bed, and Scott himself was puttering around in the kitchen, looking for something to do. His mind raced with everything Ava had told them, everything that she’d implied. Most importantly – Janet Van Dyne was alive, she was alive, she was _alive_ –

“Scott.” Her voice crackled with sleep. “You’re pacing again.”

“Right – uh, here.” He knelt in front of her, this time holding out a mug of tea. She accepted it with a grateful smile and took a long sip. “What do we do now?” he asked, sitting by her feet. “Ava definitely cleared some stuff up, but this is still way beyond us. We’re actors, not cops or agents or - or heroes.”

“There are a lot of things that are out of our hands,” Hope agreed. “But there’s one thing that isn’t.”

“And that is…?”

She turned to glance down the hall at Scott’s closed bedroom door. “Bringing Ava back to Dr. Foster.”

* * *

After making a brief stop at Hope’s apartment to get Ava a hot shower and a change of clothes, the three of them went to Berkeley despite their collective exhaustion. It hadn’t taken much to convince Ava to see Dr. Foster again, her eyes widening with joy at the very idea, though the crowds of students definitely made her nervous. She kept tugging on the pieces of hair that had fallen out of the ponytail tucked beneath her ballcap, glancing around constantly like she expected someone to attack.

“It’s been so long,” she mumbled. “He won’t like what I’ve become.”

“He said you were his daughter, Ava,” Scott said gently. “That’s never gonna change.”

Hope knocked on Dr. Foster’s office door with a weary smile, keeping Ava from view. He looked up from his work and reeled back in surprise, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the slump of her shoulders. Still, she had put on a brave face, the neatness of her hair and clothes concealing her devastation. “Ms. Van Dyne – I heard rumors about what happened last night, and…” At her quiet nod, he exhaled softly. “I’m sorry to hear that they’re true. How is he?”

“Recovering from surgery,” she replied. “But that’s not what I came here to talk to you about.”

Ava stepped out from behind her, wringing her hands fitfully like a child about to be scolded. “Bill?”

His eyes grew impossibly large. “ _Ava?_ ”

They were quickly ushered inside, closing the door behind them, and Hope took the chair opposite him while Scott went on to pace the length of the room, unable to keep still. Ava slowly moved to Dr. Foster’s side, and he stood to meet her. There was a moment of hesitation, their eyes meeting but not quite believing, before she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Bill, I – I’m sorry I couldn’t come back earlier. I have so much to tell you.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay. So glad.” He pulled her in tight, cupping the back of her head with one hand, letting out a relieved sob. “Tell me everything.”

Ava stepped back, her smile wide, and sat in the chair beside Hope’s. “I intend to,” she said quietly. “As you know, my father’s work was…dangerous. Risky. Most of SHIELD wanted nothing to do with it, but there were certain…subsets who did.”

“HYDRA?”

She nodded. “After my parents’ deaths, all of his things were put in storage, or at least, that’s what we thought. HYDRA found out about my survival and that I was being kept in the safehouse. However, they weren’t very interested in me at the time, because they were already running tests, using my father’s discoveries, and had found one perfect test subject who responded positively to her – as they called it – ‘evolution’.”

“HYDRA has been conducting genetic experiments on humans ever since HYDRA _existed_. Unfortunately, Janet Van Dyne had stirred up too much of a fuss about the accident for their comfort, so they took her, intending to kill her, and found that she was more useful to them alive than dead. They’ve been keeping her for years, away from her family.” Ava’s eyes watered at that, unable to turn and look at Hope’s identical expression. “Their newfound interest in my abilities came from new leadership at the Foundation – the vote that chose Darren Cross as their new CEO. He knew something was odd about my parents and my sudden disappearance, and fixated on it to the point of obsession. I could tell I was being followed, hunted down. I wasn’t taken from you, Bill. I left with them on my own accord, because I knew they would kill you to get to me if it ever came to that.”

“Ava,” he breathed.

“Janet and I met for the second time in HYDRA’s lab. She didn’t recognize me at first – after all, I was barely four years old when I disappeared – but once she did, we formed something of an alliance. As it turns out, her strange abilities helped alleviate mine. She could reduce my pain, just for a little bit. In return, I was someone she could talk to. A poor substitute for her daughter, maybe, but I…I’d like to believe that she actually liked me.”

“HYDRA wanted to turn me into an assassin. I was fitted for a special suit that would help control my phasing, put through hundreds of hours of tests and training so I would be in peak physical condition. However, Janet didn’t want it to come to that. The details are complex, but a facility-wide escape was made. I was one of the ones who got out. She wasn’t.”

“I had no money, no identification, no idea where to go. I simply ran as far as I could. That’s when I found Scott, or rather, he found me.” Her smile was melancholic this time. “Unfortunately, HYDRA received word of where I was, and sent in their moles to retrieve me. I was brought back, tortured for hours on end.” She slowly clenched and unclenched her fists, barely unable to draw them inwards without a hiss of discomfort. “Then, one day, we were in the lab, and one of the geneticists was listening to the radio. That’s when we heard it – ‘the reclusive Dr. Hank Pym has announced his directorial debut, the story of star-crossed lovers kept apart by time and space, starring his daughter, Hope Van Dyne, and comedy veteran Scott Lang’.” She recited it perfectly, word-for-word, with a grimace.

“So that’s why you risked escaping again, to find them,” Dr. Foster prompted.

“Not just that, but…HYDRA, they’re working on something. Something big, something involving Janet, and I knew if I didn’t at least try to save her after everything she’s done for me…” Ava inhaled sharply. “I know I can trust her, trust Scott and Hope, trust _you_. There must be something you can do for her, Bill. Old SHIELD contacts you can reach out to, resources that we don’t have…we have to save Janet and the others. We have to stop HYDRA and Mr. Cross and whatever nefarious plot they’ve created for the world at large.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin, I…” Dr. Foster trailed off helplessly; Ava’s face crumpled. He reached across to take her hand, squeezing. “But I will do everything I can, I promise. I won’t let you down, Ava.”

A smile spread across her face, something genuine and sweet and heartbreakingly earnest. Scott and Hope exchanged silent glances. Then, Ava glanced between them, a strange glint in her eyes. No one could ever quite tell what she was thinking, and they suspected she preferred it that way. “You know, Janet once slipped me the number of a federal agent she knew of back in the day, someone honest, and told me to contact him if the situation ever called for it. I believe now would be the time.”

“What do you – ” Ava merely smirked as Scott’s phone went off; he was beginning to suspect the accident had given her powers of premonition, too. “Maggie, hey, I – what is it, what's wrong?”

“She’s here, Scott, she’s – ” Maggie let out a tear-filled laugh. “Cassie’s home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end! Writing Ava as having ultimately good intentions and a sweet relationship with Janet was one of my side goals of this AU since I never really think of her as a villain in the first place. Next chapter will mostly be Scott/Hope sweetness and family fluff, as (most) of the conflict has been resolved, except for one obvious plot point. It will probably be later than two weeks from now (again) as I have a couple of unexpected fic prompts to fill, but we're nearly there!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)


	6. Chapter 6

Scott could feel his breath seizing up in his throat as he stepped out of Hope’s car, clutching onto the passenger door like it was his only lifeline. Maggie’s house, usually a vision of idle tranquillity, was surrounded by nondescript black cars, all parked haphazardly on her front lawn. He had to remind himself these were federal agents and not HYDRA – the _good_ agents, the honest ones, not the crooked double agents who’d practically dragged Ava from his home all those years ago.

“Scott.” He turned to look at Hope, standing on the driver’s side, Ava hovering uncertainly beside her. “She’s okay, everything’s going to be okay…it’s all over.”

“Right – I gotta – I should – ” He finally let go of the car door, his knees trembling beneath him the whole walk up the driveway. The front door opened before he even set foot on the porch, and he was very nearly knocked off his feet.

“ _Daddy!_ ” Cassie cried, sobbing noisily into his torso, her little fingers clinging desperately to his shirt. “Daddy, you’re here – I was so scared – ”

“I’ve got you, peanut, I'm right here,” he breathed, kneeling down to her level so he could return her embrace. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he clung to her, running his fingers through her hair, with no intention of letting go. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Wh – what are you sorry for?” she sniffled, looking up at him. The innocence in her eyes made his heart ache.

“I did what I promised you I was never going to do. I got mixed up with some bad people, _again_. They’re the ones who did this to you. If I hadn’t done what I did…this never would’ve happened.” He cupped her face in both hands. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but I’m gonna try, anyway.”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” she protested. “Are they the same bad people who put you in jail?”

“Something like that,” Scott nodded, smiling ruefully. “I should go talk to your mom and the agents in charge. I’m sure they both have a lot to say to me.”

“Mommy sure does,” Cassie said with a wet laugh, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. She then glanced over Scott’s shoulder for the first time, locking eyes on Hope and Ava by the car. “What’s Hope doing here? And who is that?”

“Her name is Ava. She was taken by the same bad people as you – well, sort of. It’s complicated,” he admitted. His barely-awake brain could hardly distinguish the difference between Cross, Burch, and HYDRA at this point. With his current lack of sleep, he was lucky he still remembered how to put one foot in front of the other. “We’re looking after her to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Oh…I remember her now!” Cassie stepped out of Scott’s arms so she could see Ava properly, cocking her head sideways. “She’s the one who you tried to help the first time, right? When I was really little?” She waved eagerly with a bright smile. Ava lifted a hand, a confused, but warm expression on her face.

Scott squeezed Cassie’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you remembered. You were barely old enough to memorize all the names of your stuffed animals.”

“Of course I remember! You were her hero, Daddy,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You tried to save her, and you always say that trying is the first step.”

“Speaking of trying…Ava is trying to help us bring Hope’s mom back.” Cassie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “It’s…it’s, well, it’s – “

“Complicated?” she echoed with a mischievous smile. “That’s what grownups say about everything when they don’t wanna talk about stuff. But you can do it, Daddy. I know you can.”

Scott bent to kiss the back of Cassie’s head, lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “Thanks, peanut. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Always,” Cassie promised.

His returning smile was impossibly soft. “Should we head inside now? Give your mom a chance to yell at me, talk to that agent she was telling me about?”

“Agent Woo,” Cassie said, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “He’s kinda…weird. But he reminds me of you!”

“Oh…fantastic,” Scott said weakly, unsure of whether to be insulted or not. Still, he took her by the hand and led her into the house. “I can’t wait to meet him. But, uh…weird _how_?”

* * *

Hope smoothed down the front of her coat, hands trembling with nerves she couldn’t quite shake off. It was the final day of filming, though no one was really in the mood for celebrating. Though Cassie was safe and sound, and Burch and his goons had been locked away, Darren had disappeared in the chaos, and Hank was still on strict bed rest, taking longer than most to recover from his surgery due to his age.

The movie, filled with dream sequences and fantastical elements reminiscent of childhood fairytales, was starting to feel like a dream in itself. The set had become a grounding space in Hope and Scott’s life, an odd source of comfort for when everything else in their lives was going wrong. Here, all of their questions were answered, the parts they played were certain. Less so could be said of reality, though it seemed like things were finally drawing to a close.

“So this is what being a movie star is all about?” Hope glanced in the mirror’s reflection to see Ava sitting on the couch behind her, legs crossed, not unlike a small child. The little reminders of Ava’s unconventional upbringing always made Hope feel guilty, how she never got to be a normal kid, teenager, _or_ young adult. Public school was likely the only time she felt truly at ease, and even then, she probably had to look over her shoulder in fear. “It’s not quite as glamorous as I was expecting. Your mother made it look so easy, back when we were children. Every commercial I was in, I remember she’d always sit next to the director and tell us that even if we forgot our lines or our actions, to never forget to smile.”

Hope chuckled softly. “Mom always did _everything_ with a smile. She knew how to keep her head up and lift the spirits of everyone around her. It was a good counterbalance to my dad’s…Hank-ness.”

“Your father does seem rather temperamental, yes,” Ava said with a laugh. “Bill told me stories of their terrible working relationship, though I’m assuming they were from a biased perspective.”

“Believe me, we’ll never get a straight story from either of them,” Hope said wryly. She sat down beside Ava, careful not to crease her costume. “Will you be okay in here by yourself? If you wanted to come to set – “

“I…I’m not quite there yet.” Ava tugged on the end of her sleeve. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Hope, but I’m not very good with people. If I’m being completely honest, the only reason I trust you is because of Janet and Scott. Otherwise…” She trailed off, but the rest of her sentence was clear.

“I understand,” Hope said quietly. “I’m glad that Mom could be there for you. We’re here for you, too. I promise.”

Ava nodded. “What I don’t get is why you and Scott still have to finish filming. Haven’t you both been through enough? Why not take another few days off, at least?”

“We all have our responsibilities,” Hope replied. “I don’t like pretending that Mom isn’t being held and tortured somewhere. If I were more like you, maybe I could go in and get her back myself. But I’m…I’m not a hero, Ava. I only play one in front of the camera.”

Ava’s voice was impossibly small. “Do you regret your choice of career?”

Hope fell silent for a moment. “As much as I’d like to say ‘no’, there’s a lot that I wish I’d done better. My job, my personal life…my relationship with my parents.”

“If I could…offer you some perspective?” Ava said tentatively. At Hope’s nod, she continued, “Getting your mother back isn’t going to magically fix whatever it is that happened between you and Hank. But from what I can tell, you have her strength. That alone should be enough.”

Hope let out a wet laugh. “Will she even like who I am? I’m nothing like who I was when I was a kid.”

“That sounds exactly like what I said to you about Bill,” Ava said, smiling. “You mean the world to her, Hope. Being the person you are now won’t ever change that.”

There was an abrupt knock on the trailer door. “Ms. Van Dyne, five minutes to set.”

“Thank you,” she called, hastily dabbing at the mascara that had flaked off underneath her eyes. She carefully took Ava’s hand and squeezed. “And thank you, Ava.”

Ava looked pleased, surprised that she’d been able to help. “Of course.”

* * *

Cassie sat perfectly still in her dad’s chair, “LANG” brandished across the back, though she was practically vibrating on the spot with excitement. In the seat beside her, marked “VAN DYNE”, an enormous security guard wearing sunglasses and a stern expression practically eclipsed her in size, almost three times over. He had barely moved a muscle in contrast.

“Do you get to watch my daddy act every day?” she asked. “Because I don’t. Mommy says she doesn’t want me to go to work with her or Daddy ‘cos it’s dangerous, but...then some bad men took me, so I guess she was wrong.”

The guard cleared his throat. “I know, Ms. Lang. That’s why I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh, you can call me Cassie!” she offered, brightening, sticking out her hand. “What’s your name?” He didn’t answer, though he shook her hand regardless. The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were desperately holding back a smile.

“Quiet on set,” someone called. “And...action!”

Cassie leaned forward to rest her chin in her hands, watching with rapt fascination. All at once, the scene before them suddenly leapt to life. Despite it being the last day of shooting, the scene was chronologically one of the first, depicting Scott and Hope’s characters in the early stages of their blossoming relationship.

There was something thrilling to her, something magical, about seeing the exhaustion in their eyes disappear the instant the cameras were rolling. The weight of the past few months, which were starting to feel like years, became non-existent. Burdens of kidnapping, conspiracy, despair, all of it seemed to melt away. They looked younger now, on the cusp of something romantic and warm and exhilarating. It was right then and there that Cassie decided she knew what she had to do.

They wrapped in the early afternoon, an hour earlier than expected. The set thundered with applause and cheers of both celebration and relief. Hope took to making a brief speech for the cast and crew on Hank’s behalf, lamenting that he wasn’t there with them, but was well on his way to recovery.

“I feel like we’ve learned so much about each other, but even more importantly, about ourselves.” Hope looked at Scott, smiling briefly. “I hope you feel the same way too, even if it was just something small, because even the smallest of things can be as significant as anything and everything else.”

Everyone soon left to dismantle the sets and get out of hair and makeup, leaving Cassie to follow Scott around, chattering happily about what she’d seen. They eventually ended up back in Scott’s trailer, with her personal security guard standing watch outside.

“Mommy’s gonna be impressed when she sees the movie,” Cassie said, hopping up onto the couch.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, she said you only ever know how to be funny,” Cassie mused. “She always says you’re real bad with emotional stuff.”

“...right, great, glad to hear it.” Scott couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended. “So you enjoyed yourself today? You weren’t bored?”

“No way,” Cassie protested. “It’s way more fun than going to school!”

“You have to go back eventually, peanut. We’re just keeping a close eye on you until we know it’s safe,” Scott reminded her.

“I know, I know,” she sighed, sinking back in her seat, swinging her legs idly back and forth. “So Daddy, are you and Hope, um…”

Scott paused midway through undoing his tie, turning to look at her over his shoulder. “You been reading those headlines, huh?”

Cassie’s responding smile was equal parts secret and mischievous, like most of her heartbreakingly adorable smiles, the kind that made Scott nervous. “No, Daddy. But you like her, right?”

“Sure, yeah, we’re friends,” Scott said slowly.

“I don’t mean in a friend way, and you know it,” Cassie insisted.

“Cassie - ”

“I think you should tell her,” she interrupted, her eyes blazing with a passion she usually reserved for soccer games and particularly well-told bedtime stories. “Mommy’s really happy with Paxton. Don’t you wanna be happy with her?”

Before Scott could respond - and really, how could he respond to that? - there was a knock at his trailer door. “Yeah?” he called, clearing his throat. He hadn’t even realized how stuck his voice had felt until now.

“It’s Hope.” She sounded pained, and for a moment, Scott thought the worst had happened, a number of scenarios running rapidly through his head, each more horrible than the last. Then, there was a laugh, a genuine, disbelieving laugh. It scared him a little. “Agent Woo is here with his team to take Ava in for questioning. They...they think they know where my mom is, Scott. They think they’ve found her.”

* * *

It was moments like these where Hope found herself wondering what life would have been like, had her parents taken up SHIELD’s offer after all. Had they been spies inside Hollywood, keeping a close eye on actors and directors, producers and executives, what would have become of her? Would she follow in their footsteps, become a spy herself? She liked to think she would have the discipline and demeanor for it, but in the end, would it be worth the cost?

She was sitting in Agent Woo’s office with Scott in the chair beside her, her clasped hands held tight between her knees to stop herself from shaking. Scott, on the other hand, was drumming his fingers listlessly on the armrests. Cassie had been taken home to Maggie by one of the production assistants, with two of Woo’s colleagues assigned to watch the house.

“Well?” Hank barked through Hope’s phone, causing both of them to jump.

Hope sighed. “Dad, we’re just as worried as you are, but we have to be patient. I already told you, Agent Woo is checking to confirm that the signal corroborates with the information Ava gave them. There’s nothing we can do but wait until he gets back, and even then, they have to send out a team to do the job. It could be...I don’t know, _hours_ before this is finally over. And we don’t even know if that signal came from Mom.”

“It has to be,” Hank insisted, sounding very much like a person who wasn’t patient at all, but then again, he wouldn’t have sounded like himself if he had. “Your mother is the cleverest woman I know.” He paused. “Aside from you.”

Hope cracked a smile. “Thanks, Dad. But we should still manage our expectations. We don’t know what the FBI might find there, if they even find ‘there’ in the first place.”

“Glad to hear you’re as optimistic as always,” Scott remarked. Hope shot him a look, then turned back to her phone.

“It’s still pretty early to call it, so get some sleep okay? We might end up contacting you in the middle of the night depending on how it goes,” Hope continued.

Hank grunted. “Fine. But the second you hear something, I don’t give a damn what time it is. You call me.”

“Of course, Dad.” Hope then picked up her phone to turn off her speakerphone, bringing it up to her ear. A grin spread across her face. “You, too. Okay, bye.” When she set her phone down, she noticed Scott looking at her, sporting a fond smile of his own. “What?”

“It’s nice to hear you call him ‘dad’,” he commented. “When we first met, you wouldn’t even _look_ at him, and now - ”

“ - and now, there’s still a lot left to be said and done,” Hope interrupted, though not unkindly. “But for what it’s worth...it feels nice to call him that again. There’s something to be said for relationships put under pressure, whether they get built or broken.”

“Relationships...right.” Scott coughed sharply. He knew here and now wasn’t the time or place for it, but Cassie’s pleading eyes had him curious, had him wondering. He let the silence fill the gaps for him, his gaze focused intently on her face. She seemed to hesitate, averting her eyes.

“My priority is the same as before - Mom,” Hope said carefully. Her smile was more tentative now. “We’ll have this conversation another time, I promise.”

Scott held his breath, then let it go. Moments later, the door opened, and a harried-looking Agent Woo walked in, looking at them both with wild eyes. “Ms. Van Dyne, Mr. Lang - you know, we usually don’t let civilians in on our findings, but...to heck with it. If you two could follow me?”

Hope and Scott exchanged wordless glances, then got out of their chairs, stiff joints and trembling hands and all, and followed him out the door and down the corridor.

* * *

Everything turned out rather anti-climatically in the end. Between kidnappings and shootings and everything else they’d experienced over the last several months of their lives, all it took was a meticulously planned operation by the FBI specialists, and then it was over. It was all over. HYDRA itself, of course, wasn’t over. While they’d caught the lead scientists of the genetics program, who had apparently been working on some amalgamation of anti-ageing properties and enhanced physical and mental performance, there were still branches upon branches of HYDRA that were yet to be found.

As terrible as it sounded, Hope couldn’t bring herself to care much about anything beyond the fate of their captives, those who had endured days, months, _years_ of torture for just the slightest bit of scientific gratification. After all, she wasn’t a cop or an agent or a hero. All she could offer were the facilities at the Foundation to help unpackage their research and discoveries once Darren and his HYDRA moles were ejected from the company.

It was three in the morning, and Hope was back in Hank’s hospital room. He still had a day or so to go before they would release him since he’d apparently agitated his stitches ( _how typical of him_ , she’d thought with a good-natured eye-roll). Scott was asleep in a chair by the window, while Hope lingered in the doorway, unable to close her eyes for even a second, no matter how much they ached. Then, came the sound of footsteps, two sets to be exact, accompanied by feminine voices. Hope looked up, and in an instant, tears began to well up in her eyes.

“Mom?”

Janet let go of the nurse who’d been helping her down the hallway and took the last few steps by herself, closing the gap, flinging her arms around Hope and squeezing so tightly, she felt as if she’d burst. Both women let out heaving sobs into one another’s shoulders. Hope burrowed her face in her mother’s neck, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume, feeling the softness of her hair. “Jellybean,” Janet breathed “Hope, you - you’re so big, I - ”

“It’s been so long,” Hope said, choking back a sob. Janet released Hope’s waist so she could cup her daughter’s face in her trembling hands. There was something simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking about seeing her significantly older, with stark white hair and dark under-eye circles, sunken cheeks and sunspots along her temples. Still, there was that light in her eyes that Hope and Hank had always remembered fondly. Despite everything, the light had yet to go out.

Scott stirred in his seat at the sound of their voices, blinking blearily before his eyes registered what he was really seeing. He stumbled over to Hank and gently nudged him in the shoulder. “Hank? Hey, Hank. She’s here.”

Hank let out an undignified snort before jolting awake, grappling for his glasses on his bedside table. “Janet?”

Sniffling, Hope led Janet over to Hank’s bed and helped her into a chair. Janet took Hank’s hand and squeezed, letting out a quiet, but sharp exhalation. Her vision was obscured by her tears. “Henry, I - I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Janet,” Hank repeated, his own eyes beginning to well up. He pulled her closer, bringing their foreheads to rest together. “It’s really you.”

They shared a kiss, the first kiss they’d had in decades. Hope looked away momentarily to grant them privacy, while Scott went back to his seat by the window to give the family some space. When they turned back, Hank and Janet were holding each other’s faces, silent tears streaming down their cheeks. “I have so much to tell you, Henry. So much to say to everyone,” she murmured.

“Sleep first,” Hope insisted, though her tone was gentle. “You have time, Mom. All the time in the world.”

“You have...no idea how happy I am to hear that.” The three of them embraced, Hank and Hope enveloping Janet between them, sinking into one another with delirious elation. Scott smiled privately to himself.

* * *

It was days at first, then weeks, then a couple of months. Usually, this was the typical post-production schedule Scott had come to expect. There would be calls about reshoots, press junkets, premiere dates, maybe a television appearance or a radio interview if the project was particularly prolific. He supposed the movie was anything but typical, but still, he expected _something_.

He was mostly concerned about the family’s wellbeing, Janet’s especially, not to mention the ongoing investigation that had him visiting Agent Woo’s office more often than he wanted to. Darren had yet to be found, though the FBI speculated he was hiding in some isolated HYDRA base, and if he was smart enough, he wouldn’t so much as make a sound if he knew what was good for him. Aside from the occasional short reply to his messages from Hope, the only thing Scott was hearing from her and her parents was silence.

Then, finally, a single text.

_Press conference at Westin, tomorrow at 10 AM. Meet me at the Grand Ballroom at 9:45._

_Yes, I’m definitely free, thanks for asking_ , he couldn’t help but snark. _Press conference? I didn’t get any legal docs sent my way._

 _It isn’t for us_ , she answered cryptically. _Will you be there?_

Scott arrived at the Westin Hotel at 9:30 AM sharp, wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses and completely unsure of what to expect. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, with businesspeople and tourists passing through the lobby. He was quickly approached by one of the hotel concierges.

“Mr. Lang!” she greeted. “I was asked to escort you to the ballroom. Ms. Van Dyne will be pleased to know you came early.”

“I’m sure she will be,” he agreed with a chuckle, following her down the corridor.

The ballroom was set up in preparation for a press conference, as expected. There was a long table on stage, with neat rows of chairs on the floor facing the front. Everything else seemed comparatively bare-bones, no signs or name placards or anything that would indicate who or what it was actually for. Members of the press chatted amongst themselves, seemingly just as confused as Scott felt. He was quickly taken backstage before anyone could see him.

Scott’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Hope for the first time in months, as if he’d momentarily forgotten what it was like to be in her presence. Her hair was a little longer, and she looked far more lively than she’d ever been before. She turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps, then broke out into a wide smile. “Hi.”

He blinked, then smiled back. “Hi,” he repeated stupidly.

“Hope, don’t tell me you called him all the way down here just so you could ogle him,” Hank grouched, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere. Janet was beside him, sporting a grin of her own. Both of them looked noticeably healthier and happier than the last time Scott saw them in Hank’s hospital room.

“Dad,” Hope protested.

“Henry,” Janet scolded, lightly nudging him. She then turned to Scott. “I suppose we didn’t really get the chance to formally meet, but I’ve heard so much about you. I’d say ‘all good things’, but you know what my husband is like.” Hank harrumphed but didn’t comment otherwise.

“It’s great to see you again, Ms. Van Dyne. I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” Scott said warmly, offering his hand to shake. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pulled him into a hug instead.

“Please, call me Janet,” she insisted, stepping back. “Oh, and Hope and Ava were telling me about your daughter the other day. I’d love to meet her someday if you’d let me, now that you’re practically part of the family and all.”

“ _Mom_ \- ”

“Is Ava here, too?” Scott asked. “Gotta be honest, I feel like I’ve been so out of the loop. I’ve been so worried about everyone, but Hope said she wasn’t able to tell me anything.”

“The FBI and the government have been pretty tight-lipped, but you’ll get to hear everything soon enough,” Janet said with a quirk of her mouth, patting Scott’s arm in reassurance. “Ava’s over there with Bill. She won’t be speaking today, but I’ll be telling her story on her behalf.” 

Scott looked over to where she was pointing. Ava and Dr. Foster were sitting on a couch together, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone else, chatting quietly with identically warm smiles on their faces. She seemed brighter, too, just like the Pym-Van Dyne family, not quite as hunched over and drawn into herself. When Scott caught her eye, she waved shyly. Grinning, he waved back.

Then, it finally occurred to him. “Wait, so this press conference is for _you_!”

“I don’t have the means to stop HYDRA myself, but I have the ability to tell everyone what happened,” Janet said, nodding. “Sure, they held me captive, but I refuse to become their victim.”

Hope pressed a kiss onto Janet’s cheek. “Good luck, Mom.”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be going out there to talk, too - ”

“Dad,” Hope repeated, more affectionately this time, and pecked him on the cheek, too. He was barely able to conceal his smile from her. They were interrupted by a production assistant who called Hank and Janet over so they could get their mics on and send them out on stage. Scott and Hope easily fell into step beside one another as they settled into some chairs by the backstage monitors. “You know, when he came to me with this...absolutely _insane_ idea that Mom was alive, I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to be rational about everything, but even more so, I...I wanted to be right. And now, all of this? I never expected any of this to happen, not in a million years.”

“We had no idea what was gonna happen.” Scott found himself thinking about their first day of filming, when they’d sat in Hope’s car together for the first time, how she’d demanded to know why he was getting involved. “As crazy as everything got, I’m glad I got to be a part of it.”

“So am I.” Hope looked at him. “Hey, that conversation I mentioned? If you’re not busy, do you...want to have it after the conference is done, maybe over lunch?”

Scott’s returning grin was radiant. “Yeah. Yeah, you got it.”

* * *

Movie premieres were tedious things for almost everyone involved, though their anticipation for this particular premiere was obvious. Usually, Hope only found joy in meeting fans and hearing their stories, rather than repeating all her usual talking points to the same ten reporters while getting blinded by a wall of cameras. Scott, on the other hand, usually cracked one too many jokes in an interview and got awkward silence for his efforts. Red carpet events weren’t nearly as much of a marathon when Hank and Janet were in their prime, so they both found themselves overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds when they arrived by stretch limousine.

“I don’t remember it being quite like this,” Janet said, amazed, turning to look at Hope.

“It can be a lot, so just...let us know if you need to step back, okay, Mom?” Hope said gently, squeezing her hand. “No one is going to judge you if it ends up being too much, especially after everything you’ve told them.”

“I’ll be fine, jellybean,” Janet replied, squeezing back with a bright smile. “Shall we?”

It was all just a blur at first, feeling just like the Foundation’s gala with swarms of people they didn’t recognize, their names called over and over again from every possible direction. Hope’s publicist was as diligent as ever, guiding them smoothly through the photographers and directing them to one particular reporter.

“It’s such a pleasure to be speaking to you all,” she said warmly; her eyes were practically sparkling when she looked at Janet. Hank and Scott exchanged looks, then took a half-step back, knowing it was really the women who were at the front-and-center tonight. “Now, the press conference from a few months ago is all anyone can talk about, has there been any updates since then that can be shared with the public?”

“The investigation is in the FBI’s hands, so we can’t say any more than they have,” Hope said carefully. “However, I’d just like to confirm once again that Darren Cross no longer has any authority or affiliation with the Foundation. He still hasn’t been found, though the FBI confirmed last week that he was seen in Sokovia.”

“And with Mr. Cross’s disappearance, I’d also like to take a moment to congratulate Dr. Pym on being reinstated in the company,” the reporter continued, smiling. “A unanimous vote across the board must feel well-deserved.”

“My daughter’s idea,” Hank grunted, though he looked secretly pleased. “I’m more of a figurehead if we’re being honest. It’s Hope who’s been making all of the decisions for the last several years, anyways.”

“One of the main reasons I’m taking a step back from acting for a little while,” Hope added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Acting is a passion of mine, but my family and our business are where my heart and soul are. With Mom and Dad back, I want to change my focus to the Foundation for the next few years and ensure that any of HYDRA’s effects on our programs and funding are cleaned out from the top down.”

“We’ll also be launching a new effort to help those who have been affected by HYDRA, both physically and mentally,” Janet said. “Knowing that their genetics project went far beyond California and damaged people and families on a global scale breaks my heart. I was one of the lucky ones.” Hank pressed a kiss to Janet’s cheek; the reporter let out an audible “aww”.

“Was it ever discovered, what HYDRA’s true goals were?” she asked.

“From what I understand, there were plenty of applications of their studies that they were aiming for,” Hank said thoughtfully. “Among other things, they wanted to create the ultimate super-soldier. It sounds like complete nonsense to me, but with an organization like that, we might never really know.”

“And now that we’ve confirmed that the movie is based on your relationship with your wife, Dr. Pym, do you have anything you would've liked to change or maybe add, now that she’s returned?” the reporter pressed.

“I personally think a story of Mom’s survival would make for a compelling sequel,” Hope said with a laugh. Janet let out a scoff of modesty, though she looked equally intrigued by the idea, too.

The reporter also chuckled, then bent down a little. “Maybe in a few years when _you’re_ old enough, Ms. Cassie?”

Cassie’s eyes widened at being addressed. “You think so?” she exclaimed.

“Might be more than a few years,” Scott remarked, rubbing Cassie’s shoulder affectionately. “If she gets into acting, that is. You ask me, she’s more of a future superstar athlete. Isn’t that right, peanut?”

“I kick a mean goal,” Cassie agreed, nodding sagely.

“One last question, if you don’t mind - is there anything you’d like to share with the public, Ms. Van Dyne? About your experiences, your detractors, anything at all?”

Janet hesitated, long enough that Hope silently pinched her elbow as if to remind her she didn’t have to say a word. “I know there are people out there who don’t believe me or the hundreds of others who have spoken out. But I know that everything I do, everything I’ve survived, has been for my husband and daughter. And I think many others would say the same thing, no matter who or what they’re talking about.”

The reporter’s responding smile was impossibly wide, her eyes damp with emotion. “Thank you, Ms. Van Dyne. I look forward to seeing the movie.”

The five of them shuffled into the theatre, with Hank rubbing Janet’s back, Scott and Hope’s arms linked together, and Cassie holding onto Scott’s free hand. A comfortable silence fell over them despite the continued chaos behind their backs. Hope had to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning too much, for her heart finally felt full.

* * *

Janet still remembered how little Hope had been when she’d accidentally left her behind, small but still every bit as clever and fierce and defiant as her parents were. Seeing her on the big screen as a grown woman was just as jarring as seeing her as a grown woman in person, watching her smile and laugh and fall in love, watching her yell and scream and fight for her life. Janet clutched Hope’s hand throughout the entire movie, gasping and laughing and tearing up at all the right moments.

After the movie was over and the cast had made their speeches to the audience, the crowd began to disperse. Janet offered to take Cassie to the bathroom while the other three were still being chased by hungry reporters, eager to find the next big news story out of nothing. Taking Cassie’s small hand in hers only brought back more memories of another little girl’s hand, warm and soft and reliant on her guidance.

“I asked Daddy if I could watch the movies that you were in, but he said I’m not old enough yet,” Cassie commented as they walked together. “Do you think you’ll act again someday?”

“Actually, I was thinking of going back to school. It’s never too late, you know,” Janet added. “After all, Henry went and got a doctorate while I was gone, and Hope has two bachelor’s and a master’s. I think it’s time I caught up and got a degree or two of my own.”

“Maybe we can do our homework together,” Cassie suggested.

Janet’s heart melted. “I would love that, honey. You’re welcome at our house anytime, okay?”

“Really?” Cassie was practically glowing by now. “It’s just, the last time I asked Daddy about him and Hope, he didn’t seem to think anything was going to happen. But maybe if we come over more - ”

“Well, Hope has her own place, sweetheart,” Janet said gently. “But you’re right, we can also spend some time together, all five of us. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She paused. “And...anything, hmm?”

“Daddy really likes her, but he gets all weird when I ask,” Cassie complained.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready, if there’s anything to tell in the first place,” Janet replied. “Oh, I think there are bathrooms just over here - ”

When they rounded the corner, it was a dead-empty corridor, save for a closed concession stand where the workers were cleaning out the machines and emptying the garbage. Most others had exited down the main hallway, where the bathrooms were sure to be overrun, whereas this one seemed to be unoccupied.

Standing right outside the entrance was Scott and Hope, talking quietly, heads bowed together. Janet came to a stop, keeping Cassie just behind her, and watched as Hope leaned in to kiss him, cupping his face in her hands. Scott didn’t seem surprised by this at all, like they’d already done this before, maybe hundreds of times before, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in closer, sighing softly, contentedly, against her mouth. Hope grinned, leaning back so they could look into each other’s eyes. She murmured something, to which he replied with a single word Janet couldn’t hear, before tugging him back in for another.

“Ms. Janet?”

Janet startled, having nearly forgotten Cassie was with her. “It looks like the bathrooms down this way are closed, we’ll have to head towards the main entrance,” she said quickly, grabbing her hand and leading her in the opposite direction. Cassie let out a squawk of protest, but let herself be pulled along.

It was Scott who pulled away this time. “...did you hear something?”

Hope glanced around curiously. “No, I don’t think so. But we should probably head back instead of making out in dark corners like we’re a couple of teenagers.”

“This was _your_ idea,” Scott pointed out.

“ _Scott_ \- ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the worst,” Scott laughed, interlacing his fingers with hers. “You’re right, let’s head back before we _really_ give people something to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, far too many weeks later! I am so incredibly sorry that I vanished on y'all and left you without the last chapter. Long story short, if you haven't seen my response to a Tumblr ask I got a little while ago, Google Docs ate my Scott/Hope fic document. Like, the entire thing. Which not only included this fic and all my notes for it, but all my other WIPs. I've now learned that downloading my docs as an offline backup should really be part of my writing routine.
> 
> Needless to say, I wasn't super motivated to write them after everything disappeared, but I did feel terrible for abandoning this, so I've returned with what I hope was a good chapter! I'm not sure if this is the absolute best version of the finale that I was envisioning when I plotted this fic, but it's close to my original idea, so I think it's still satisfactory in its own way. I left a little bit of a sequel hook regarding Darren, Ava and Bill, and the entangled Pym-Van Dyne-Lang families, but I probably won't be writing any MCU fic until more news comes out about _Guardians 3_ or _Ant-Man 3_.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and sticking around for so long, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed! Have a good one, everyone :)


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